


Exploring

by nomoretears24



Series: Exploring [1]
Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Anxiety, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Physical Abuse, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:35:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 85,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26696848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nomoretears24/pseuds/nomoretears24
Summary: When Roman arrives on the yacht, he has an unexpected seriousness that surprises Gerri.Roman and Gerri on the run up to the yacht and then what took place on board.I reread this recently and decided it was utter shit in how it was written so I've decided to start editing it. The story isn't changing, I'm just making it a bit more fucking readable at this rate so when I update I will write here when a chapter has now been edited! Hope it is a bit more enjoyable!Updated Chapter 1 - 5
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Series: Exploring [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1991920
Comments: 29
Kudos: 76





	1. Before the Yacht

Today had been unusual.

A feeling she should be accustomed to after several decades with the Roy family.

She had been surrounded by an array of cheers, a plethora of jeers as he had remained unnaturally silent. A feeling that made her instantly sceptical. She hadn’t been able to gauge his mood as she had watched him board the yacht; his head bowed, his sunglasses hiding his eyes, his usual babbling absent.

Everyone gave a handful of jibes. Just the ones he was used to. The ones he was the king in offering to others and hitting back over the net with ease. She had joined in with everyone else’s quips regardless of her reticence, trying to entice the unique vulgar ribbing that only he could imagine up. For her sake or his, she wasn’t quite sure. But she hadn’t thought at first her comment was distasteful, only gave it a second thought at his reaction.

What she hadn’t expected was his seriousness… not in front of them. His inability to join in on the usual banter that perhaps only she had realised that he often used to evade any real emotion. He was never serious about his feelings in front of them. He was barely serious about his feelings in front of her unless it was about the workload he had expected her to give advice on, the arousal he had expected her to alleviate, or the anxiety he had expected her to dissipate. Other than all of that he was usually… just Roman. An erratic mess, full of jokes, vulgarity, flirtation, and scrambled ideas that she had to steer or joust with.

Fear, however, was not something she was used to dealing with so publicly with him.

She had seen fear in people copious amount of times; mainly across the boardroom table. She was the master of identifying fear; had expertly learned how to sniff it out, grab it by the balls, and take advantage of it to progress her argument. She had observed fear in so many forms: anger, evasion, shouting, fidgeting, wavering, stuttering, stammering, the fumbling of correct word choice. All of these she had homed in as the tell-tale signs that she expertly learned to pounce on as soon as they were unveiled.

Yet, the admission of it in its purest form was something she had only experienced with her children in the few times she had been around them when they were younger. The simplicity of it being etched across their faces with sad eyes, a petted lip, tears, or simply being outright confessed was something she hadn’t experienced since her children had grown. 

But Roman was not a child. As much as he acted like one at times and as much as the Roy’s treated him as if he still had the intelligence of one; he was not. She had only theorised that his families treatment of him as an apparent infant had been the reason he played up to it for so many years; that they may have been gaslighting him into some psychological state of mind that he was the runt of the litter child to maintain a modicum of control. However, she had observed his growing maturity since she had actually started treating him like the adult he was; gifting him with the reality that he could do anything he set his mind to really was possibly exactly what he had needed. The thought of that alone, of the little it took to get some positive reaction from him, was grim. The idea that all he had potentially ever needed was a little support, a little encouragement to flourish after all these years wasn’t provided until she had taken it upon herself was unfathomable.

She had experienced a handful of situations in the last year of what was only an indication of fear in Roman as whatever was mounting between them grew. The way he had reacted to Logan a lot of the time being the most obvious, though he often thought he cunningly covered it with humour. Perhaps it worked with the others but not her.

Apart from the fear, she found herself inadvertently piling up the evidence in the last few years of not only the mental abuse he had been suffering at the hands of the Roy’s his whole life, but also the physical abuse from Logan specifically. Hell, she had seen it herself in Argestes; much to her horror.

The first real glimpse of it she had paid full attention to was in Austria. A round of Boar on the Floor would do that to you. Though usually unflappable, she even felt horrendous anxiety through that whole exchange. It had, of course, peaked when she had been asked to stand before Logan to give her thoughts on the Pierce deal; gaining a lucky escape at the last moment. But Roman had seemed so alarmed when he had been exposed to Logan of his attempt to contact Naomi Pierce. His face had been panicked, his voice wavering, his desperation and pleading to Logan had been hard to watch. She thinks this is the moment she had decided she was going to offer her expertise and experience to him the next morning. She had been certain that his intent to help and progress the deal had been genuine; his execution however had been clearly misguided. But she had assessed his potential grow since Japan, especially in the Vaulter closing and the proxy battle.

She knew he had it in him.

The phone calls (of all kinds) had been gradual after that. Often, he had phoned because he was lost; out at sea and needing map his navigation to safety. He needed direct guidance; her proficiency in how to move forward and excel in every situation. The phone calls had been nothing but innocent until that first night of the management training programme. She still doesn’t know why she did it. If she were honest, she was genuinely shocked and outraged when it had started to take a turn, when she had heard his heavy, uneven breathes through the receiver, when she thought they were just engaging in their usual ribbing. But why she hadn’t hung up after the first insult? She didn’t know. She remembers the mix of emotions. The excitement. The outrage. The confusion. The disgust. The titillation. She thinks she just ran away with the fantasy; had forgotten who she was and who she was talking to in that moment. She was a human after all. She wasn’t dead. She was still a sexually active woman of a certain age. You didn’t just lose that when you reached her maturity. It was surprisingly easy to be drawn into a situation like that, even after years of following the rules.

But what she doesn’t know is why she continued to do it as time had passed. She had a mixture of feelings towards it. It had been a nonsensical flirtation they had had for years which perhaps had just got a little out of hand. But she knew she wouldn’t still be doing it, have continued doing it if she hadn’t wanted to.

She didn’t know what to make of the revelation that he didn’t have sex with his girlfriend’s in Tern Haven; though she had of course heard the rumours before then. She had on only a few occasions wondered if it was due to his inability to. She had at one point considered that he may not be interested in women at all, but then why would he be masturbating over her voice down the phone, or in her bathroom eventually for that matter? Then on only one occasion, after a very long day and one martini too many, she considered that maybe he wasn’t having sex with Tabitha because he had interests elsewhere – i.e. her. She tried not to dwell on that; had folded it up and set it on fire before it could even be allowed to sit in the back of her mind. She didn’t know if she was willing to delve into and then determine exactly why she does do it still on occassion. Especially when the phone calls had become less about pent up arousal as their bond had seemed to venture into something more, something stronger.

Yes, there had been a lot more phone calls of that nature and the bathroom incident had been a surprise in itself, but she had decided that was just Roman being Roman, trying to get himself off, trying to chase a release, trying to blow off steam.

However, she the first night she had felt the beginning of a shift in the nature of their relationship had been the night he had phoned her panicking.

****

She had been exhausted; a late night the evening before had exhausted her. Putting out another fire that the Roy’s had created due to their own stupidity had resulted in only two hours sleep with a 20-hour day work day following it. And it hadn’t been an easy work day either; in and out of meetings trying to smooth things over, trying to strategically threaten rival media outlets to not publish disparaging stories of the Roys, sifting through copious amounts of documents to ensure every single miniscule detail was correct, she had just been looking forward to an iota of rest.

She had finally settled into her bed exhausted, about to drift off to sleep when she had received a phone call from him. She could have ignored it, but she there was something in her that never allowed her to ignore a phone call, especially not from him. Despite her profession to him that she wasn’t available 24/7 like an ATM, she hadn’t ignored a call or knock on her door yet. But her patience had been waning that evening; unwilling to have another night of berating him whilst he breathed heavily, though that was likely the fastest way to get him off the phone. So, she had answered exasperated, putting him on loudspeaker, closing her eyes as she refused to cease relaxing into her comfortable pillows, her voice was undoubtedly curt she spoke.

“Not tonight Roman. I’m exhausted.”

She was shocked when he had spoken a mile a minute, clearly panicked; his speed of speech always the tell-tale sign that he was spiralling. But she couldn’t process it at that rate; her brain capacity already at full storage.

“Rome… Rome… Slow the fuck down,” she had said to him, her eyes still closed, her brow furrowed.

“I don’t think I can do it, Gerri! I don’t think I can! A lot is riding on this. What if I fuck it up? Or say something stupid to the guy like… I don’t know… tell him to suck my dick or offer to suck his wives dick, or the popes dick? I don’t know. I’m bound to fuck it up!” He had been shouting, clearly running a hole in the ground with his pacing, wherever the fuck he was.

“Rome—” she had said gently.

“And then there is his fuck whit partner. I’m sure the last time I seen him I had said that he had a face like the Elephant Man and his girlfriend looked like a prolapsed cunt. They’re not going to go for it. I’m wasting my fucking time. Am I stupid, Gerri? Am I that much of an imbecile? I don’t know—”

“ROME!” She had shouted, cutting him off, unable to take it anymore. He fell silent instantly, heavy breathing, hopefully not for the usual reasons but because he hadn’t taken a fucking breath since he got on the phone.

“Calm down,” she had told him softly. “You’re not stupid. You’ve got this. I read over all the information you sent me earlier that you prepped for the meeting and it’s all perfect. Stop doubting yourself. You’re gonna knock ‘em dead.”

She had turned over on her side towards the phone, snuggled deeper into her pillows when she had heard his sigh of relief. Glad that she had at least momentarily abated him.

“It’s okay,” she said sleepily, her voice becoming slightly muffled by her pillow, as she let her charging phone settle on the mattress next to her pillow. “Just calm down. Take some deep breaths, okay?”

“Okay,” she had heard his gentle voice on the other end of the phone, his deep breaths beginning.

She had realised only when she woke up a few hours later, that she had fallen asleep whilst still on the phone to him. When she had woken, the room was dark, but she heard light snoring, and a ruffling of covers coming from her left side next to her. She was so disoriented; it took her a good few seconds to realise it was coming from her phone. When the phone lit up, she had to squint, thinking her shitty eyesight was deceiving her when she saw Roman’s name and **2:41:31** underneath, the seconds increasing with each exhale that she had heard on the other end of the phone.

She had remembered that he had been completely awake pacing when she had fallen asleep, realising he must have stayed with her deliberately; consciously falling asleep on the phone with her.

She had no idea what to take from it at the time and if she were being honest, she had been too exhausted to think about it then, opting to just go back to sleep. Thinking of it after, what had hit her the most was that she didn’t have any regret, or desire to hang up. She didn’t know if she had subconsciously gone back to sleep because it truly didn’t bother her that this was a way to alleviate his anxiety; especially when she considered the other ways she had helped his needs, this was nothing. What however was more pressing in her rumination and analysis was how the breathing coming through her speaker was actually soothing to her; that was something she wasn’t expecting.

She had woken up to a hung-up phone the next morning when her alarm had gone off and was glad to have given him that power. For him to not feel potential rejection if he had woken up to a hung-up phone, or for him to have the option to happily ignore it ever happened like she never would have known he had stayed with her was also a relief for her that the onus would be on him to bright it up. The pressure removed from her was immense and the move had been worth it in the end. He had smashed it out of the park at the meeting the next day. There was something endearing about the way he had paraded in the office hallways, shouting, whooping, and punching the air completely unprofessionally in celebration. She had watched him through the glass of her office window, whilst she on the phone to a bore of a man, listening to him drone on. It made her smile internally to see his energy; to see his victory. He had caught her eye through the window though, smiling kindly at her. The smile that have revealed his hand, had furthered their unspoken communication. A recognition of last night. A thank you for her understanding of him. A thank you for her encouragement and faith in him. A smile that made her stomach flip and her question herself. All she had given him was a quirked eyebrow, still listening to the client muttering when he had poked his head through her door.

He had simply given an “OK’ sign and mouthed ‘Thank You’, a move that brought the whirring from her lower stomach up to her chest.

She had given a thumbs up and a small smile, her silent communication of praise back to him. He had offered her a flirtatious wink in response, leaving with a puffed chest, shouting something about shots to the guys with him as she had rolled her eyes and gone back into her conversation with her head shaking.

****

He had only phoned her a few more times before Argestes.

Once for the usual arousal alleviation – she for some reason obliging again as she had had to become more creative with insults, them not coming so easily to her tongue anymore as she tried to spit them out.

The next had been an awkward attempt at small talk, he muttering on, until she had lost her patience and finally asked him to spit out what he had called her for. He had been forced to ask her outright this time. Unequivocally ask if she could stay on the phone with him whilst he fell asleep this time. He had sounded so quiet when he had posed the question, so panicked at the thought of her rejection, rendering her mute in shock. He started speaking quickly in response to her silence: trying to explain that he had been struggling with sleep, mumbling about how he was freaked out about what the fuck he was going to do now that Shiv was the successor, that Tabitha didn’t stay over anymore, that the thoughts constantly ruminating in his fucked up head prevented him from sleep, and that last week, falling asleep on the phone with her, listening to her rhythmic breathing, gave him something to focus on.

She was surprised. That she cannot deny. She didn’t know what to say. So much ran through her head all at once. Was it a step too far to arrange falling asleep on the phone with your boss’s son instead of it being accidental? Was it too familiar? Why was this a harder decision that falsely berating him into an orgasm? But also pressing her, if she were honest, was if she really cared? He had just wanted a comfort to go to sleep. She knew could have countered his argument and tell him to download an app with white noise sounds or watch a YouTube video of someone rambling on, but she knew it wasn’t a breathing sound he was looking for. It was her breathing. The comfort of her presence. His attachment to her forming and becoming even stronger in recent weeks. His attention on her much more obvious as he seemed to find her at some point in each day to touch base for her approval. She didn’t know if she should be indulging in it though, that this could be the straw that broke the camels back I in sending the wrong message. But she couldn’t deny, considering it all, she had to admit to herself it felt good to feel wanted for once. She hadn’t felt wanted in her work or her personal life in years. That someone wanted her specifically was flattering to say the least. And they had been teetering around whatever this was becoming for weeks.

“Rome…” She had started, but he had interrupted her, backtracking on his fatal admissions.

“It’s fine,” he had shouted. “I’m not a fucking baby. I’ll be able to sleep. Will replay a fucking romantic comedy like Saw II in my head or something. And who cares about Waystar anyway, right? Frees up the possibility for me to lie marry someone in the British royal family and become a Prince. Don’t worry about it—”

“Rome!” She had firmly called out over him, unwilling to listen to him spit out his verbal diarrhoea any longer. “Get some sleep. I won’t hang up,” she told him quietly. Again, she had heard that sigh of relief through the phone. She could imagine in physically deflating, his eyes closing, his head hanging in alleviation at those four words she had uttered. Why had that always given her such satisfaction?

“I’m not going to sleep though,” she added quickly. “I still have work to do on my laptop so there is going to be noise.”

“That’s fine,” she had heard him say muffled into the pillow as though he was finally settling in, allowing her a masked smile through the phone.

She had put the phone on loudspeaker, settling it on the couch next to her as she heard his deep breathing eventually, indicating sleep after only ten minutes. Is that all it took? She had continued her work for another hour after that, eventually giving up when her eyes started to droop, and the words started fusing together. She had taken the care to mute herself when she had started getting ready for bed; cautious of waking him. She only took the phone off mute when she had her phone on charge, herself settled in the bed, falling asleep herself to the sound of his deep breathing. Again, she woke up in the morning to a hung-up phone. She couldn’t resist the temptation to look up how long they had been on the phone together, curious to see if he had lasted through the night. He had only hung up 15 minutes prior to her waking, and she doesn’t know why him staying on the phone with her through night made her smile to sweetly.

It had only happened one more time before Argestes, in the exact same way as before, him sleeping soundly through the night on the other end of the phone. It shocked her how much it really didn’t bother her when he phoned to ask, or why she did it without question of why he needed her there. She knew that he obviously didn’t need it all the time, just when something was amiss. It was clear he didn’t want to delve into what could have been amiss and she didn’t feel the need to push. She supposed she respected his privacy not to pry and they never brought it up when they saw each other either. An unspoken commitment to keep even more secrets in the vault they were going to have to start alphabetising at this rate.

****

Argestes though changed everything. Not the ‘Rockstar and the Molewoman’, though that had been an amusing and yet enticing proposal at the time.

It had started when she felt herself piping up to vouch for Roman’s abilities. When she had pushed for him to seek out the white knight over Tom. She told herself then that it was because she knew Roman’s abilities and his strengths; clearly superior to fucking Tom when it came to the art of finesse and an opportunity for him to showcase them to Logan. Then it had been furthered when she had felt defensive of him when Logan had been willing to quickly drop him in favour of Shiv as if he were nothing. As the days had passed, her protectiveness of him had been undeniable and mounting; something she was trying to push to the back of her head at the time, the cruises fiasco enough to deal with. 

However, seeing Logan hit Roman first-hand had been the match in the powder barrel. She had heard the rumours and stories; had even witnessed the numerous put-downs from Logan and all of the Roy’s first-hand through the years but seeing a physical smack in person had panicked her more than she ever remembered being panicked. The thud of hearing the back of Logans making contact with Roman’s face had jolted an electric bolt of anxiety through her entire body. She felt helpless. She knew couldn’t jump between them as much as she may have wanted to, though she felt herself moving closer to Logan as if it made a difference. Thank God Kendall had physically made himself a barrier between them. She could only hear her startled voice trying to calm Logan; repeating that it had played well so that he wouldn’t go in for a second or third hit.

She had watched Roman push his siblings off him angrily, holding his jaw, complaining of a missing tooth. She had followed Logan, hoping that her presence along with Marcia could tame the beast whilst they cared for Roman’s injuries. However, she checked her phone incessantly whilst she got ready for dinner, somehow expecting him to contact her. But nothing. An hour later she had even attempted to go to his room, knocking the door lightly before she headed down to dinner.

“Rome,” she had gently serenaded through the door several times. However, she had heard nothing despite her straining her ear against the door. No movement, no sound, no voice. Nothing. That worried her more than anything.

She rationalised it though, deciding that maybe he was embarrassed and had wanted to lick his wounds. She sent him a text anyway:

**| Molewoman is here if you need anything, Rockstar |**

She had heard nothing at all through dinner; had only attended to show face, though she could barely stand the sight of Logan after what he had done. She couldn’t figure out if he was barbaric or just not mentally balanced anymore. It was an enigma. But everything had been thrown up into the air again, providing another distraction when there was another shit show with Nan Pierce pulling out of the deal. There was no time to think about Roman again after that.

She had got back to her room late, instantly got ready for bed, looking through a few more things on her laptop at the dining room table before heading up to her bed, when she had heard a knock on the door. His knock.

When she opened the door, he looked like death. He reeked of scotch, the large bruise on his jaw evident as he passed her, looking only at the floor, whilst she closed the door behind him. She watched as he stumbled to the dining room table, his hip hitting off the kitchen counter as he passed it, earning not even a wince whilst she followed him in, keeping her distance as though it would startle him.

“How you doin’, Rockstar?” She tried to be gentle, uncertain of what was to come, watching as he plunked himself on the chair, his head still hanging and facing the floor.

He truly seemed like a zombie before her; a sitting corpse.

“Amazing,” he mumbled, putting his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands, covering his face, wincing as he touched his jaw before readjusting.

She couldn’t help but compare the sight before her to the image of him making jokes, swinging his legs on the counter the evening before. She remembers feeling her stomach dropping looking at him sitting there broken. It wasn’t pity she felt, but she didn’t know what it was. Empathy perhaps. She had just wanted to make it all better. She couldn’t even imagine what he was thinking.

She had walked over to him, slowly, allowing him time to tell her to back off if that’s what he wanted. When she had reached him, his sagged body still not retreating in terror, she hesitantly raised her hand to his head; she herself not knowing if she was going to follow through. This was a new boundary she was about to cross, but she didn’t know if she was ready to do it.

It seemed her breaking heart for him was what had gently pushed her over that boundary as she placed her hand gently on the back of his head. When he didn’t pull away, she began stroking her hand through his hair down to his neck; he still unflinching, though a deep breath from him was the only evident sound in the room.

“It’s going to be okay,” she had whispered softly, the only thing she could think to say.

This had been what awoke him, and she had not expected it. He had sat up quickly, still not looking at her as he threw his arms around her waist, burying his head into her the satin pyjamas surrounding her stomach and squeezing tightly. Although she was shocked, she didn’t resist the automatic response to continue moving her hand through his hair and allowing her other hand stroking across his shoulders soothingly to draw him in tightly. He sat there so long, breathing evenly, not speaking word that she would have thought he had fallen asleep if she hadn’t have looked down at him and seen his eyes still squeezed shut, trying to hold everything in, and his vice grip still around her waist still evident.

She had felt devastated for him; her heart breaking as she had absorbed his unspoken hurt. What had this man been through in his life? What horrors had he experienced? Who had been there for him when he needed someone to hold him like this? What was going through that chaotic brain of his? She had suspected that this anger, this abuse may have been why he had got off on her berating him, but he knew that all wasn’t true didn’t he? That they were playing a game and she was giving him the relief he needed. He knew that she didn’t actually think everything she said in those moments, right? Her insults had always been laced with humour, as were his. Only Roman Roy could call her an invisible, nothing, boring, old filing cabinet without it being offensive. But now that she thought of it, who did he have to tell him that he wasn’t a piece of shit. Well it seemed it was her. She was the only one to her knowledge who really told him how competent he really was. Her brain had been ruminating, all whilst carding her fingers through his hair, delicately to soothe him.

After a while she could feel her back twitching in pain, unable to keep this position for much longer she was forced to say the only thing she could think of to comfort him as a next step. Her dodgy back was the excuse she told herself at the time, though now she knows it was her overwhelming urge to take care of him.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” She had whispered riskily.

He looked up to her surprised, arms still tight around her waist. She had rolled her eyes at his interpretation of her question, her lips twitching knowingly, as her hand moved to stroke the hair above his ear.

“Not like that!” She had laughed. “I just think you should get some sleep. You can sleep on the couch or you know… upstairs…”

His eyes had been fixed on hers as he had considered it, his lip only slightly catching the inside of his lip, his brow furrowed. She knew the moment he had made his decision and knew exactly what that decision would be when she saw it. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the way his face contorted so quickly, so expertly, so it was no longer suffering; a mask forming as he loosened his arms from around her waist.

“Nah, it’s okay,” he had said, letting her go as she stepped back from him, creating space between them as he stood before her.

She would have been insulted if she hadn’t understood the way that Roman worked. Intimacy was something he clearly struggled with and no fucking wonder he had with what she had witnessed today. She could imagine the idea of someone caring for him may be hard to accept and come to terms with; after all it takes one to know one.

He had looked up into her eyes after walking towards the door, the ghost of the scared child within him glimpsing before they turned into faux mirth. From is exasperated expression, she could tell that he could clearly see the obvious concern etched on her face. She watched as the jester was born before her, the one he had always brought out to perform in the shittiest of times, though she hadn’t expected an appearance on a night as haunting as tonight.

“Don’t worry Ger! This isn’t my first time!” He had tried to laugh off. “Will be all over by tomorrow with a lame acknowledgment, knowing dad,” he had shouted merrily, his hand swiping the air. “What was it that Hugo said earlier today? The 3 R’s! Logan Roy’s excuse in any situation. Regret – it was a long time ago! Responsibility – it’s one individual, not the corporation! Okay, that one doesn’t really work. But remedy – tough and vague! CONDEMN AND MOVE ON!!” He smiled after dramatically having impersonated Hugo, trying to make light of how his dad would strategically handle the whole thing.

But she didn’t laugh. She didn’t find it funny at all, because that was exactly what would happen and did happen. That would be exactly what Logan would do to his own child after harming him and it was a nauseating prospect. She remembered feeling her emotions bubbling over when he had said that. She could have cried on the spot watching him try to sweep it under the rug and diminish it by using his humour. She found it completely tragic and undeserving.

“He was wrong, Rome,” was all she could choke out at the time, folding her lips inward to stop her emotions bursting, placing a hand lightly on his shoulder to try and convey the weight of her words. She could see the tears forming in his eyes, the return of a heartbroken man who had been reduced by his own father, but he shook his head quickly and moved towards the door, leaving her room silently.

The next morning, he was back to cracking jokes, and being the life and soul of the party, making jokes with strangers about getting into a fight with a bear and losing a tooth but it would make a great rug in his apartment. She couldn’t find the same ability to so quickly forget what had happened, but she supposed he had had more practice.

She had felt that she had to stick close to him after that night. He was right in his suggestion of Rockstar and the Molewoman. They needed each other; in more ways than they could have fathomed. He needed her protection, knowledge, and experience, and she needed his. He also seemed to be the only person who really saw her. Everyone else really did seem to see her as wallpaper, as the filing cabinet everyone was content to have around. The way she always had to interject her opinion now when she was the most competent of them all was soul destroying. Her ideas used to be welcome before she had become the name on the paper, though she would never forget the first day of Kendall taking charge when Logan was ill and how he had just dismissed all of these thoughts that she had carefully thought out without even hearing them. Roman would never do that to her. He listened to her. He wanted to know what she had to say. He wanted to hear her ideas. Not just her opinion on how to fix a fucking shit storm, but what they could do to actually move everything forward.

And she also cared for him. Deeply. Deeper than she had ever realised.

The phone calls to fall asleep had increased since that night. His need for comfort accelerating, his trust in her immense; her want to provide it deepening also. Phone calls to strategize became the most dominant. They had even started meeting at least once a week to strategize in little out of the way diners, a welcome excuse to also have a moment away from Waystar, inadvertently getting to know him and bringing them closer together. The arousing phone calls had continued a little also; she even indulging in it herself from time to time; not that he knew that.

She didn’t know whether to take his marriage proposal seriously though. The shock of his babbling about Germany and cannibalism a little too much for her to process; deliberately flung into the back of her mind as the amounting panic over Weissel had overtaken. It wasn’t something she could give any serious thought to anyway, especially with the horror of the testimony in DC afterwards taking up all of her time. Not even in the moments when she was alone, and her mind would drift to it before sleep, did she allow herself to consider it. 

This is why she determined that Roman's admission right now, boarding the yacht, of fear in its purest form in front of his whole family was so surprising. He had so seldom let down those walls in private with her, and especially not verbally, never mind entrusting them to the people who were the biggest culprits of creating the fear within him. Something had changed within him; she could see it unfold before her. His inability to immediately become the jester to mask his hurt had been too delayed when he had boarded. Even his eventual attempt at humour had been weak. Something had happened. Something had changed. 

And yet, all of her analysis of it and all of her previous experience with him couldn't have prepared her for what she was about to witness with him on the yacht.


	2. A familiar voice

“That would have been really traumatising if you weren’t already so fucked up.”

As soon as she realises he’s not laughing at any of the jibes being thrown at him; that he is particularly serious in response to everyone, she regrets the comment. It was a low blow to him in front of all of them, especially coming from her. She knew she didn’t mean it, but on reflection it immediately hits her that she was perpetuating everything they thought of him.

His solemn, serious expression as he had ignored her, ignored them all; his inability to banter put her on the back foot. This wasn’t him. Roman in the worst of times would berate them back expertly. He would make a joke out of any situation with an immediate sass that only he could convey.

“It was actually fucking scary and we thought that they might kill us.”

Hearing him say that is like a stab through her heart, realising that the admission in its purest form is the most serious she has ever seen him. The awkward atmosphere amongst all of them for diminishing that fear was apparent, all of their eyes darting to each other for what to do or say; she remaining silent as she considers Roman only. The Roy’s, being heartless fucks most of the time, must be feeling more awkward than she is right now. She knows this wasn’t one of those situations where he told the truth hidden in a quip making it seem untrue to his audience. It wasn’t him making something up completely that everyone knew to be a lie for the sake of a laugh. This was Roman being stone cold direct that he had been frightened, clearly done with everyone else’s bullshit of not taking something so traumatising seriously. None of them were used to that and she can’t deny in normal circumstances she would enjoy watching them squirm. However, she was in their camp and it made her feel like a complete asshole. She felt absolute regret rushing over her for conforming to everyone else’s apathy. She was as bad as the rest of them and that was a blow. A hard one. 

She keeps quiet, watching his behaviour; studying him for any signs of what he might be thinking. She watches as they start apologising and his weak attempt at jokes to relieve the tension, a clear sign that he felt guilty for being so harsh; trying to be himself as much as possible by mentioning the embarrassing photo of Karl. Yet it didn’t have the same zing, the same charm that usually radiated from him. It never met his eyes and his tone was unconvincing and she knows there’s something off.

She watches him intently as he settles on the couch, Shiv getting him a beer; trying to analyse his every move, his every expression, his every word. He looks exhausted and completely defeated and that makes her worry. She had had a little hope when she had spoken to him on the phone that it may not have affected him as badly as she had thought it may, but seeing him now, it clearly had.

****

She had been distressed over him when she had found out about the terrorist situation in Turkey; sending him several messages from that war room in DC, attempting to remain calm and not pace the floor. The messages were simple and repetitive. Asking him if he was okay; yearning for him to respond since there had been radio silence from all of them for hours since the news had hit that there was an ongoing situation. She hadn’t received a response; later discovering that his phone had been taken from him, only being returned the next day. She had watched the news on her phone, trying to get any possible information. Then she had been the one who stepped into action to contact the White House to arrange for their rescue. She had screamed down the phone at a poor assistant of some kind, demanding to speak to whoever was in charge of these things, then pressing to speak to the President himself. She had succeeded, handing the phone to Logan when she had got through, allowing him to use his influence in the best way possible. He, having more sway than her, though she was ready to march herself to the White House and demand it if that’s what it took. She didn’t eat for over 24 hours in that time – completely sick with worry watching the news, searching the different media outlets on her phone, theorising what had been going on in there, the severity of it changing every hour. There had been reports of gun shots. The thought of him being on the receiving end of it, the fear that he would try and charm his way out of it and end up making himself a target, was sickening. It was ongoing through the night; regretful that she was in a room with the Roy clan as her insides had twisted in torture. When she had found out they had got him out to safety and that he was completely unharmed, the relief that flooded her was significant though the hard part had been pressing down its degree, putting on a brave face so as not to raise any suspicion.

Someone a lot lower than her could likely have dealt with the rest but she had insisted on handling the other arrangements personally to make him as comfortable as possible. She had spoken to the US Ambassador in Turkey to arrange a doctor to give him a medical check upon his rescue. She had been passed to the Ambassador’s assistant to arrange clothing for him, a shrink if he wanted it. It kept her busy and made her feel as though she wasn’t completely fucking useless in this situation. She remembers when she had run out of tasks; the crash she had felt. The magnitude of the relief she that had flooded her entire being had been astounding; it was unforeseen and sharp, far beyond what she had been trying to pass this relationship off as. When she reflected on what could have happened, she visibly winced, the distress building up within her. Listening to the news reports had been the most stupid thing she could have done as witnesses had given their accounts over what they had seen in the lobby. Realising that it could have been him that could have been tortured, harmed, killed, made an example of in the name of their stance against corruption had been nauseating. When she realised that her reaction to this whole thing was not normal for a colleague or even a mentor relationship; she had cut off the thought process, unwilling to delve into the unanswered questions and unexplored feelings at the moment. She had gone to bed early that night, ignoring the calling workload, the mental and physical fatigue overwhelming; falling asleep before 9pm for the first time in perhaps 30 years. She knew he was questioned by the agency for any information relating to the US national security the next day; well that’s what the Ambassadors assistant had told her.

She had received only one message from him a few days after his release. A simple thumbs up in response to her asking if he was okay. She had laughed a little at his attempt of humour; being given a taste of her own medicine. But it was truly all she had needed; the reality that he was alive, messaging her, was the best gift he could have given her, as simple as it was. She would take his sass in bucket loads just to have the reality that he was still tangible.

She had then received one phone call from him a few days ago.

A phone call unlike all the others. Not for arousal, not for business, not for sleep.

She had been lying on her couch watching the Pierce news coverage of DC, fumbling with her phone, fighting with her remote control to mute the news, her heart racing as she tried to react hurriedly when she had seen his name on her phone screen.

“Hey… how are you?” She had answered softly, sitting up quickly on her couch in anticipation of hearing his voice; relatively astounded that he had actually phoned her after being mute for the past few days.

“I’m okay. Sick of looking at fucking baclava,” he groaned. “If I see it one more time, I’m going to kill myself. The Rakı is good though. Gets you good and fucked up so you don’t remember the demon licking your ankles at the edge of your bed when you get sleep paralysis.”

She heard him sniffing, pacing around his room a little, the usual thumping of his footsteps as his mind ruminated alongside his movements. He had sounded better than she had anticipated he would though and was at least attempting humour as he usually did; a sign that he was at least a modicum of himself. She had been worried that he was drinking heavily though if his comments about the Rakı was true; the possibility was real that he was trying to covertly avoid what he should be facing sooner rather than later.

“Did you speak to the shrink?”

“Yeah…,” he trails off. “The guy didn’t really understand my _charm_ enough to help though. Couldn’t get past the constant profanity and terrorist torture and rape jokes,” he says quietly, clearly fidgeting with something on the other end of the phone. “Some people just don’t have a sense of humour anymore,” he murmured lightly.

She smiled, simply happy to be hearing his voice, her heart beginning to slow to a normal rate now.

“You want me to get your own shrink to contact you?”

She could hear a silence on the other end of the phone as he considered her offer, his hums clear, his eye rolls probably accompanying it.

“Nah, I’m fine.”

She had frowned, unhappy with his decision, unwilling to push him any further into it though. The phone had gone silent again as they both simply listened to each other breathing. She was unsure what she should say; didn’t know if she should broach the whole situation or allow him to talk about it when he was ready. She didn’t know his purpose for calling either. Comfort? Distraction? Boredom?

“You want to talk about it?” She finally asked, always being the more direct of them both, not caring about how vulnerable she was making herself in this situation.

She had heard a hesitation again as his puckering lips had made small noises.

“Nah,” he sighed. “Just wanted a familiar voice to drown out the drone of Karl and Laird peddling around in my fucking head.”

She smiles at that. This she was familiar with. This was the safe zone. He wanted to just hear her voice, similarly to when he slept on the phone. He had wanted something nonsensical and familiar.

“All right,” she offered lightly. “You’re coming to the yacht day after tomorrow though, yeah? I made all the arrangements for you.”

“Yeah. You’re going to be there?” He sounded surprised, but she had no idea who he had been in contact with so knowing the Roy’s he was probably completely out of the loop.

“Yeah, Frank too. Your dad asked us to.”

She heard a loud groan on the other end of the phone at the mention of Frank, eliciting a smile and a rolling of her eyes in reaction. Would he ever get over his hatred for Frank?

“I thought it was a family mini break or some shit?” He had said agitated, the clinking of a glass clear in the background, she assumed from a large alcoholic mixture of some king he was pouring into it.

“I’m not so sure to be honest,” she begun huffing. “Something’s definitely off.”

She had lifted her martini to take a sip, swallowing it to help her dry mouth, giving her hands something to do as well.

“Mm…” She had heard him taking a sip of his drink before changing the subject. “I saw the videos of you in DC. You did pretty well, Molewoman. The perfect little filing cabinet.”

She chuckled at his references for her, at his compliment to her. What she didn’t know was that he would replay those videos on YouTube over and over just to hear her voice to calm him into a broken sleep since he had got his phone back; that it was the only thing keeping him from spiralling completely fucking out of control into the depths of hell.

“Wouldn’t be hard with the flaming pile of dog shit next to me, spiralling into the abyss,” she said rolling her eyes, reflecting back on Tom.

He laughed genuinely at that. The elation she felt, the grin appearing on her face when she had heard it taking her by surprise. He had sounded so solemn so far up until that point, it was good to hear a laugh.

“Oh my god, yeah,” he shouted excitedly, sounding as if he were lying back down again as he sighed. “I’ve never seen such a satisfying car crash in my whole life, and that’s saying something. You can’t make a Tomlette, without breaking some Greggs is honestly the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever heard. I’m considering getting the quote tattooed with their faces in a frying pan next to it.”

She had chuckled at that. He probably fucking would.

“I know. I don’t know how one person can be so moronic. He was so fucking angsty, he almost threw me off,” she had laughed, rolling her eyes, completely comfortable with this repertoire.

There had been another silence. More words unspoken before she piped up.

“You sure you’re okay, Rome?” She had asked him gently.

“Yeah… it’s just… yeah…”

She stayed silent, listening to his loud sigh, sure that he was about to open up and not wanting to say something to stop him, but she would be disappointed.

“I’m gonna go now,” he had said solemnly. “It’s 3am here.”

She hadn’t even considered the time difference; just wrapped up in hearing he was still alive and there. She was disappointed now though; that one hesitation and sigh had said more than this whole conversation of what might be genuinely going on. He was still struggling with something. She would need to get him to speak to his therapist when she seen him. Maybe encourage him to go see him when they were back in New York. From what she had heard, the guy actually understood Roman. She was glad she wasn’t the only one.

“Okay, Rome.”

“See you in hell with Hades,” he jokingly remarked.

“See you in a few days,” she laughed before hanging up the phone.

****

She didn’t know what she had expected after that call when she had seen him, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t him introverting into himself. He had joked around with her then whilst revealing something was still off below the surface when he spoke to her but this, was something else. However, she knew he would come to her when he was ready, he always did. Relying on others was still new for him but he always made his way in one way or another.

He had avoided her on the yacht and gone off with his siblings after speaking with Logan.

That had been another shit show landing on her lap. They weren’t going private. That could only end in tears. She felt immensely tense at the realisation that they weren’t because that meant was everything back up in the air with no bail out and she had a target on her back for the cruises bullshit. She had been named by Weissel on _In Focus_ , she had been put before congress as a target, identified and covered in the media as a big part of this, and she knew a lot of the inner workings of what really went on. That was undeniable. But she had felt out of favour with Logan ever since he put her name on the paper as the fake new successor. She was back to being the successor now that Rhea was gone and she wasn’t family which made her a prime candidate to be thrown to the dogs. The rest of them might be stupid but she wasn’t – one of them was going to have to be thrown to the dogs to convince the shareholders now. Logan had confirmed her suspicions when he made his announcement later. He wanted to play a game. Wanted to pit them all against each other and she wasn’t surprised. She would definitely be a name brought up by someone although she hoped they were all too stupid to consider her. But she would need to start strategizing now to turn it around on them, though the anxiety that was building was becoming progressively harder to ignore. She would need to speak to Roman when he seemed up to it, because she had a lot up her sleeve that she could use, and she needed his take.

She determined that Logan would be ill-advised to name her as the fall guy because she was a definite flip risk. But she had played her cards so close to her chest for so many years now that she doesn’t know if he was even aware of that. He might not think that she would dig up the bodies that she had helped to bury to take him down with her – but little did he know, she categorically fucking would if forced to save herself. She would betray them if they would betray her. She wasn’t going to show that hand now though. She wasn’t going to reveal that she was a dangerous threat until absolutely necessary just as Bill had, but she had more to offer than Bill, an archive waiting to be published. There was the realisation though that her threats of blackmail may not work, that taking Logan down with her may not necessarily save her and the thought of doing jail time scared the living shit out of her.

****

She had kept her eye out for Roman, wanting to take an opportunity to talk to him about this, but she got the feeling he was deliberately avoiding her now. She suspected he was annoyed at her after the comment she had made upon his arrival; though she noted he didn’t seem to be that way with everyone else. Maybe her comment was sourer than she had anticipated since he actually trusted her. She probably deserved it, but there was so much more at stake just now for him to be fussing over that. He had even been avoiding making eye contact with her; not even a hello since he had entered the yacht. But he had eventually come to her, like she suspected he would after Logan’s announcement. Roman Roy didn’t make any moves in business without her now that they were a team. That she could always guarantee.

She is shocked that he is so caring at first, asking how she is, and she can’t help but be completely honest with him. Something that she rarely did with anyone. Always looking for the intelligent answer, instead of the genuine one. He’s cracking more jokes easier now; though she doesn’t know how much of this being a ‘death cruise’ was a joke at this point. She had wanted to seriously ask him who he thought would be chosen; hoping he wouldn’t say her. hoping that he would give a perspective of someone else that was a completely obvious choice that she hadn’t thought of. However, she can’t help being amused when he turns it into a comedy bit, psyching out Frank and Karl by dropping hints that he had an insight it was them, giving them odds and betting pools on whether it would be them. It is cruel, but it is Roman on top form. It makes her smile at a time of complete panic. She takes a second to wonder if he is doing it for her benefit since she had told him she had felt anxious; quickly drives it to the back of her mind

“What’s my odds?” She asks him jokingly when the others are far away enough, contemplating the possibility of it being them.

He stays silent, his brow furrowing, the heel of his hand digging into his thigh, his seriousness returning; much to her surprise.

“It’s not going to be you Gerri,” he states adamantly. “I won’t allow it. I will give you a billion to one. A trillion to one, because that’s not an option.”

That stumps her. Everything in her body has to stop her from lifting her hand and stroking it through his hair. It is oddly comforting though, even though she is aware that he has yet to face the reality that she was a definite, high possibility. She watches him fidgeting in his chair, legs wrestling from side to side as he sits silently ruminating next to her. She tries to feign reading her book, but his restlessness is distracting.

“You okay, Rome?” Her voice is gentle, quiet; a deliberate choice so that no one would overhear them.

“Never better,” he throws his hand in the air to brush her off. “Like you said, how could I be traumatised for someone so fucked up?”

She feels a heavy sigh leave her lungs as she watches him take his sunglasses off and fiddle with them, pretending to clean them to give him something to do.

“It was just a joke, Rome,” she offers apologetically.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he waves her off, dismissively, though he doesn’t move away. If he were that angry, he would have left by now, but he can’t, needs her presence right now likely as much as she needs his. She can see his body sagging, his legs no longer shifting, his head lolling back against the lounger, almost falling to her shoulder.

“You look like shit. Why don’t you try and get some sleep?”

“Wow. You’re full of compliments, today aren’t you? Gerri! The slayer of men!” He jests dramatically in a deep voice, waving his arms in the air with a small laugh. She pauses watching him; trying to gauge him.

“I just want you to feel better,” she whispers honestly, purely.

He remains silent, eventually shifting onto his side towards her and curling himself up as she goes back to her book.

She continues reading, realising after twenty minutes that he had fallen asleep next to her. She hopes her presence had something to do with that; hopes that this was similar to his phone calls when he had wanted to sleep. He had remained that way for hours; she only waking him when it was time for dinner much to his apparent dismay as they walked and then parted at their doors to their cabin on the same hallway.

The rest of the evening had been uneventful, moving her mind back to what the fuck was going to happen tomorrow. The anxiety and sickness returning as she tried to eat, while the conversation during and after dinner had been light and flimsy. Roman had showed everyone the video of Karl almost shitting into a bucket, causing Karl to storm off to his cabin in protest whilst the rest of them had howled with laughter. She had refrained from watching; her imagination providing vivid enough images, and her sympathy for Karl enough to understand he too had been through an ordeal. She did however enjoy seeing Roman’s smile; his genuine laughter with Greg and Tom over it as they piled more and more jokes onto Karl’s ridicule. It was the closest she had seen of the old Roman since his return and it made her happy.

She had retired early, wishing to begin putting into place the strategy she had begun to think up throughout the day. She had a lot to do on her _How the fuck are we going to get Gerri Kellman out of this shitshow list_. She needed to consider who her potential competitors were and find their weaknesses. She needed a comprehensive list on why each of the other potential people up for execution were a better choice than her so she could defend herself. Then there was the consideration of who her potential contacts were as evidence against the Roy’s and in favour of herself. The cover ups she had witnessed over the years needed listed and at least the location of their evidence identified, as well as the cover ups Baird had told her about that she had zero involvement with. That was something she felt was good ammo and could really save her but ruin Logan. She needed to have all of this ready to go in the chance she was the chosen one. She had to be able to smack it on his desk and rhyme off her defence and counterattack to Logan if he named her and then she had to figure out where Roman would fit into this plan.

She had been able to bullet point the whole plan and had gotten over halfway through writing it out when she had opted to go to bed; too tired to continue. She had decided she would get up first thing in the morning and finish it off and then try to catch Roman before breakfast to get his thoughts. Settling into her bed just after 1am, the sound of the waves outside the window no help in her endeavour to sleep, she tried to ignore the anxiety rising in as she eventually drifted off.

****

At 3.21am her phone was ringing, her exhausted body unable to realise what was happening until the 3rd ring. She strains her eyes without her glasses to see that it was Roman, the sigh at realising this wasn’t a dream leaving her lips harshly as she had reached for the phone.

Jesus fucking Christ. He knew how to pick his times to phone her. She hopes he isn’t drunk.

“Hello,” she rasps out, voice thick with sleep, closing her eyes again as she settles back into her pillow.

However, all she hears is deep breathing, strangled moans, and audible gasps, through what sounded like crying.

“Gerri! Gerri! I can’t… GERRI!”

She frowns, her stomach dropping through to the floor, her eyes snapping open, trying to figure out what the fuck is going on. She shoots up in her bed, then closing her eyes to try and focus on his voice to figure out what he is saying.

“Rome? Rome, what’s going on?”

“Gerri… please… I need you… Gerri…” He is crying hysterically, his voice hoarse, the sounds of him moving around, panting into the phone making it hard to make his words barely comprehensible.

“Okay, okay,” she soothes gently, already pulling back the bed sheets, and reaching for the bedside lamp. “Are you in your room?”

She reaches for her glasses, moving out of bed directly into her slippers, as she listens to him gasping and choking on the other end of the phone, trying to get his words out.

“Mmm… yeah,” he pants out, straining and groaning, sounding as if he were writhing in pain.

“Okay, honey. It’s okay. I’m on my way. Stay on the phone with me okay? Go and unlock the door. Can you do that for me?” She asks again softly, shocked at how calm she sounded when she was internally screaming at the thought of what had happened to him. She reaches for her dressing gown, struggling to hold the phone to her ear as she manoeuvres it on.

“Mmhmm,” she hears a strained mumble on the other end of the phone along with the click of a lock as she moves to her cabin door.

“Good, honey. Good. I’m on my way,” she reassures, closing her door quietly behind her.


	3. Cold Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: Panic attack and very very very mild self harm
> 
> Gerri's thoughts are in italics.  
> Roman's thoughts are in bold.

She continues listening to his moans through the phone whilst she trudged down the corridor to his room. One of the larger ones across the hall on her level, thankfully. She refrains from speaking in fear she draws attention to herself or wakes anyone up, simply listening to him through the phone as he pants raggedly. When she reaches his door, she doesn’t hesitate to open it, baffled by the vision before her as she lowers the phone from her ear. He is pacing away from her across the room towards the large bed, still holding the phone up to his ear as he whimpers, his body contorting and jolting as if he were trying to escape the coat of his own skin. She closes the door softly behind her, never taking her eyes off him as she ends the call.

“Rome?”

He turns around quickly to look at her, his eyes wide and red, his hair wildly tousled, his chest heaving, and sweat pouring down his face as he throws the phone to the bed, not even chancing a look to see if it found its destination.

“Gerri,” he cries weakly, his tears flowing stronger now that he had seen her. He moves his hands up to wrap around the back of his neck as she stands stoic by the door watching him. She feels paralysed; has no idea what to do as she watches what she would imagine is Dr Jekyll as he tries to prevent his transformation to Mr Hyde.

She had no idea how to broach this. However, she barely has the time to consider it as he begins writhing again when he is by the foot of his bed, twisting away from her in a circle as he squeezes his head between his elbows, hyperventilating.

She can’t help but wonder what the fuck is going on.

He begins pacing through the short room again, turning on his heel when he reaches one side, no longer looking at her, still twitching and squirming as he walks, his tears still flowing. She has never seen anything like this before; has never had to deal with anything close to it. Is he on drugs? Is he drunk? Having a breakdown? 

She doesn’t know what to do so simply stands there still; just watching, for once in her life waiting for some direction.

He can feel his heart beating out of his chest; his veins pumping through his arms, his hands rusting as his joints interlock. His inability to breathe worsens; the feeling that he is going to faint growing with each new gasp of air he tries takes in as he continues moving. 

He didn’t know what to do and she was the only fucking person he could call when he didn’t know what to do. He wanted her here; she’s the only person he trusts. But now that she was here, he felt guilty. What the fuck was she supposed to do to help him? He was subjecting her to him at his most neurotic and that was absolutely going to drive her away. She was going to think he was a complete fucking psychopath now; would cease their partnership, their friendship; their whatever the fuck they were. He was so stupid! How could he have been so fucking stupid to let her see him like this?! It was going to ruin everything!

He unclasps his hands at the back of his neck and starts thumping the side of his head powerfully, catching his temple and cheekbone as the delicious ache sends a jolt of relief throughout his entire body with each blow.

Her eyes widen as she realises what he’s doing, sprinting across the room towards him, her heart thrumming, her panic rising, her heart in her mouth as she throws her phone on the couch as she passes it.

“Stop! Stop!” She shouts, grabbing his wrists to still him as he fights her grasp, still trying to allow his fist to connect with his skull in hopes it would suddenly fix everything, however, her hold on his wrists is firm, bringing them down to capture them against the side of his thighs. He breathes deeply, staring down at her shoulder, his skeleton static as though his body was merely an empty shell but for his tears that were still flowing.

“Tell me what’s wrong?!|” She pleads, trying to search his hollow eyes. “I don’t know what’s happening. Tell me what I can do,” she pleads, the anxiety engulfing her, her warm hands still gripping his wrists, her own chest heaving with each second of silence.

Gerri Kellman was the master of fixing problems; has fixed every single problem to date with careful analysis, deliberation, and fact focused decisiveness. This one, she doesn’t even know where to begin.

“It’s a panic attack,” he finally grits out, his teeth clenched, still breathing heavily, as he breaks his wrists from her grip.

He can’t stay this still, his needs to move around overwhelming. It makes him feel safer; you can’t hit a moving target. He feels like his chest is sinking as he darts around the room. He doesn’t know if he can do this anymore - go through his life like this. It feels like it’s going to go on forever - like he’ll never feel happiness again, never know laughter again, never be able to absently breathe like a normal fucking person. Is he always going to be this terrified? Is this always going to torture him? Will he ever sleep properly again? If this is how his life is going to be then he’s better off not here – he may as well open that patio door and take a flying plunge into the sea. He could allow his body to sink deep down until he hits the bottom of the ocean – his lungs filling harmoniously with water until he can no longer draw a breath with a grin, offering his body a delicious meal for a lovely sea creature. The thought of it gives him a semblance of peace.

“Okay, okay,” she says softly, watching as he paces away from her again.

A panic attack? Okay, a panic attack she could handle. She hopes? She hadn’t seen one this severe before. She remembers being sent on some kind of training for this before. When the new ‘employee mental healthcare in the workplace’ became a new objective for the corporation to abate everyone. They discussed panic attacks; that they usually only lasted between 5-20 minutes; that you just had to support the person in whatever they wanted and remind them to breathe if you could.

“Just breathe, Rome. Try and take some deep breaths for me okay,” she implores, watching as he flexes his arms by his side, contracting and relaxing his fists. He looks up to her, her soft tone disrupting him from his appetizing fantasy of fading into the depths of the seabed of the Adriatic waters; bringing him back to reality and into current suffocation above sea level. He continues his pacing towards her, nodding slightly as he tries to take in a deep breath.

She was pleased to see that he was listening to her at least, that minuscule nod abating her for just a moment.

“I don’t think it’s going to be okay. I can’t go on like this,” he chokes out distressed, gagging as his breathing struggles to keep up with his words, the adrenaline pumping through his body as he continues traipsing across the small room, his arms fidgeting in odd patterns. 

“Of course it’s going to be okay, Rome,” she tries to reassure as she remains still, only her head turning to follow his travels. “It’s going to pass. I’m here. I’m here with you. You’re completely safe,” she says gently.

That sparks something in him whilst he is mid walking away from her, as he turns on his heel towards her ferociously, his eyes full of venom.

“I’m not fucking safe, Gerri!” He screams at her as her eyes widen “I’m not SAFE! None of us are safe! Anything could happen at any moment!” He barks as he begins hyperventilating again, bringing his hands up to his head and tugging at his hair harshly.

Shit. Shit. How had she just made it worse? He had been calming down. Fuck!

She’s tries to concentrate on his meaning though; her synapses signalling and transmitting at rapid speed as she attempts to piece this jigsaw together. Anything could happen at any moment. This had to be related to the terror attack.

However, her mind suddenly whirs away from that and towards worrying that his volume was going to wake someone up. She constantly eyes the door, waiting for a knock as she tries to think of a way she could explain away the noise and her presence in his room. She first had to calm him before his voice gave them both away.

“Honey, you are! You’re safe with me,” she tries to reassure desperately again. “I’m here with you. I’m not going to let anything happen to you and I’m not going anywhere. Tell me what I can do to help. Anything,” she begs loudly as her eyes follow his movements.

He looks up at her wildly, seeing the worry and despair in her blue eyes begging him to believe her. He takes his hands from his hair and looks around the room panicking, throwing his hands around in the air as he tries to think of some kind of solution to this fuckfest.

“Uhm…” he gasps out, his head spinning trying to think of anything; his moans become louder, his eyes wider as he looks around uncontrollably.

What could he do? He had to get rid of this feeling. He hasn’t had one of these in so long. He can’t really remember what he used to do. If he could just stop his hands from fucking trembling; the electric fucking current that was running through his veins, then maybe he could fucking THINK. Ehm… breathing… pacing… punching himself… the cold water. He remembers the cold water.

She watches him, her own eyebrows hitting her hairline as she tries to look calm for his benefit; the most unconvincing she has ever been in her whole life.

“Cold water,” he chokes out, turning around sharply and striding towards the bathroom whilst twitching and mumbling under his breath. She follows him bewildered, no fucking idea what he’s talking about. He reaches the sink in the bathroom, turning on the cold water at the coldest temperature it can go to and running his hands under it.

He feels the beginning of some relief as he leans his hands against the bottom of the bowl; the running water getting colder and colder until it is like ice. It’s numbing against his hands abating every nerve ending that had been screaming. He feels the relief as it begins to travel up his arms; as if he were injected with an antidote; grounding him completely.

She watches as the water runs over his red hands, then up to consider his eyes closed and his head thrown back to face the ceiling as takes in a deep breath of relief, keeping his hands in place until he can’t anymore; his hands grow progressively blotched.

She moves her hand to run under the water, ensuring it’s cold and not warm, as she watches his body further convulse at random from the random electric shocks running through his whole body. 

What can she do? She looks around the bathroom, taking a risk and grabs a washcloth, running it lightly under the freezing cold water, as he moves his hands from under it momentarily; folding it and lifting it to back of his neck as he moves his hands back under the faucet again. She hears a deep sigh come from him as he hangs his head forward, giving her better access as she presses it there gently, caressing a stray finger against the skin on his scalp.

The numbness and explosion that he feels in his hands and through his arms is almost pleasurable in comparison to the intense pulsating he had felt through them a moment ago; the cold compress on the back of his neck having the same effect down as it explores down the back of his spine and nerves reaching his whole body. He feels like he has a normal body again which isn’t trying to reject him.

She watches as his breathing gets slightly better, her own chest beginning to slow as he begins to adjust to the more tranquil setting. She moves her forehead to press against the back of his still hanging head, closing her eyes as she increases the pressure to the compress on his neck, her other hand holding up her exhausted body on the edge of the sink. She presses her chest against his arm also, hoping that her steady breathing may encourage him to follow suit; her hot breath whispering against the back of his ear with each exhale. They stand like that in silence with their eyes closed for another few minutes until she hears the sound of the water turning off. She lifts her head away from him, considering his profile apprehensively as she sees his breathing has become much steadier. He lifts his head riddled with sweat; his eyes still closed, his hand shakily searching for hers on the edge of the sink before grasping it tightly when he finds it. She jumps when she feels his freezing hand, looking down at it briefly to view the cold crimson over her warm pale fingers. She adjusts his grip so that she can rub her warm hand over his in an attempt to warm it up; looks up to him as he takes deep breaths, exhaling slowly, his eyes still tightly shut.

He eventually opens them and looks directly into the mirror at his reflection, seeing her worried form next to him watching, still steadily holding the washcloth to his neck; he doesn’t think she is even unaware he is watching their reflection at all.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers out, his eyes filling up, though he refuses to stop watching her.

Gerri. His Gerri. Gerri who just the sight of makes him feel safer; makes him feel like everything is going to be okay. Whose voice is so perfect it could slay a dragon and yet was a lullaby for a newborn infant. The only fucking person who ever gave him the time of day. Who wanted to listen to his ideas, his problems, his heartache; the only person willing to help him figure it all out and fix it. What the fuck would he ever do without Gerri?

“Oh, Rome,” she sighs. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she soothes, leaning in, closing her eyes as she kisses his temple firmly. He watches, his eyes closing briefly in joy until he remembers he doesn’t want to look away; in no way, shape, or form does he want to miss this moment that may never happen again.

She can feel a lump in her throat; tears pooling her eyes as she withdraws looking back at his profile. He had no reason to be sorry. He was suffering; had been through a horrible ordeal and it had terrified him, as it would any human being. All he needed was a little help and for someone to give a shit. All he needed was a bit of TLC as anyone would, and yet he felt like he should be ashamed to receive it. Her heart broke for him.

He had never seen something so pure and loving as Gerri caring for him; the tear running down her cheek, the worry in her eyes. He thinks he loves her; has thought so for such a long time but he knows that he doesn’t know what love really feels like. Knows from the countless therapy sessions that he isn’t entirely sure and that he often confuses it with intense attachment and his fear of abandonment; his want for anyone to love him for him truly – well that’s what his therapist says anyway. He has worked for a long time with the old shrink, this time to delay his declarations and allow them to simmer for a while to see if they last. Even though he knows he sort of failed when he asked her to marry him in Dundee but still.

He has to admit, though, he doesn’t think he’s ever felt for anyone else what he feels for Gerri and the look in her eyes are convincing him that he might just be right, that this woman might just give a shit about him. He can’t risk that right now though. It’s not the time.

“Gerri,” he chokes out, the flood gates in his eyes opening again as he turns towards her and buries his head in her neck to hug her fiercely. He lets every pent-up emotion escape that he has been holding in since he was taken to safety in Turkey, perhaps even for years. He doesn’t remember the last time he had cried this hard, sobbing into her silk robe; probably ruining a perfectly good Olivia von Halle deluxe silk. He reasons that he can happily take it off her hands, buy every single item the store had to offer if she were to complain about it. But she doesn’t seem to care, simply responds immediately to embrace, bringing her arms around his back and rubbing against it hard; bringing a hand up to the back of his head to run through his hair. She tries to hold in her tears as she witnesses his raw hurt and emotion; feeling his tears seeping through to her skin.

“Shhh, honey,” she whispers, her voice cracking, continuing her caresses. “It’s okay, I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. You let it all out.”

That makes him weep harder, grasping his hands under her arms onto the top of her shoulders, pulling her in closer as if their bodies were fusing. The words he has always wanted to hear. The complete understanding. Someone just allowing him to do and say exactly what he wanted to. Someone being here unconditionally who doesn’t have to be, just to care for him.

“It’s okay,” she gasps out, struggling to keep her emotions abated. “We’re going to get you through this.”

Her heart is wrenching for him, only wanting to take away all of his pain and fear. She has never seen anything this exposed and uninhibited before, so used to being surrounded by hidden agendas and games. He needed help and she would give every kind of support she could. She would help him get the professional help he needed; walk him to the door if she had to.

When she hears his sobs subsiding into silence, she pulls back a little, still holding onto him tightly, trying to provide the security he so needed.

“You okay?” She asks gently, offering a small smile.

He nods lightly, moving his hand from around her back to wipe his running nose, then his tear-stricken face. She searches his swollen face, blood shot eyes now refusing to meet hers, fixed to the floor as though he were embarrassed.

“You want to lie down? Or maybe get some air?” She ventures cautiously.

He nods lightly again, finally meeting her eyes innocently. He needs her to take charge; that she can see.

“How about we go to the terrace and get some fresh air, huh?” She offers kindly, running her hands from his shoulders, down his arms and taking his hand.

He nods delicately again, squeezing her hand, as she moves to his side, moving her other hand around his back to direct him back into the cabin. He moves slowly across the room like a zombie as she follows his pace.

When they get through terrace doors, she watches as he steps into the sea air, the smell and breeze hitting them instantly as they look out into the black abyss of the ocean. She stands next to him silently, his hand tightening in hers, watching as he grasps the handrail with his other hand and takes a deep breath in with his eyes closed.

He feels real again, exhausted but real. Through the whole attack he had felt as if he weren’t in his own body. His body still buzzes from the adrenaline, but he can feel his bare feet against the cold wooden slabs below him, the cold metal of the rail against his hand, and her warm hand on his back still rubbing soothing circles. He feels like he is alive again, like his organs failed to function for a moment there, but they had just been jump started back to life.

She looks out to the ocean, looking from side to side to see if she can see anything off in the distance. Her attention turns to the terraces around them, to see if anyone next door had woken by the noise; relieved when she sees the room next door is still dark. She continues looks above her and below to ensure no one else is still around, however, it’s a ghost town; only the sound of the waves to be heard. She finally feels like she can breathe, the fresh air and soothing waves diminishing the last of her anxiety also. She looks back to him, her attention having been swayed for a moment as she squeezes his hand for reassurance, trying to be encouraging.

“A little better?” She asks softly.

“Yeah,” he breathes out. It was the first he has spoken since he calmed down, another sign it was passing.

They stand out there silently for another five minutes until she sees he’s starting to silently shiver; whether from the strain on his body or the air she doesn’t know but she won’t risk it.

“How about we go back in? Get you into bed,” she suggests tenderly.

“Okay,” he answers weakly, beginning to turn around without her guidance, letting go of her hand as he turns towards her. She frowns a little, disappointed at the loss of contact until he moves his other hand back into hers. She smiles, moving her hand back to the door to slide it open, holding it open for him until he moves through.

He lets go of her hand just short of the bed, piling under the pulled back covers where he had obviously been lying earlier. She stands next to him as he climbs in, then moves the covers over him, and turns immediately around to walk towards the door of the cabin.

He becomes alarmed again as he watches her, his body panicking a little at the thought of being alone again; without her.

“You’re leaving?” He blurts out strangled, eyes bulging as he leans up on his elbows.

“No, Rome,” she answers, looking back at him with a gentle smile as she reaches the door, turning the lock firmly. “Just locking the door. I told you, I’m not going anywhere.”

He sighs in relief, lying back down on his back to relax; attempting to take deep breaths again. He’s glad he doesn’t have to ask her to stay; that she knows that’s what he needs.

She walks back over to the other side of his bed, an encouraging smile still playing on her lips. He looks so cute lying there, so innocent; waiting for her closeness. She wishes it were under different circumstances.

She was about to lie on top of the bed, when he starts tugging down the covers next to him so that she could get fully into the bed. An unspoken invitation.

She pauses for a moment looking into his eyes. This was another boundary; another line she was unsure if she should cross. She’d already crossed so many tonight. Comforting him, touching him, willing herself to stay with him until he fell sleep. All of these boundaries had already been raced across tonight, but now getting fully into bed with him?

But she couldn’t deny his pleading eyes; was all in now. She wasn’t going back. And so what if she slept in a bed with him? She’d slept in a bed with plenty of friends in her youth without it meaning anything, though she knows this isn’t the same, tries not to overthink that. It’s not like they were going to jump each other. Especially not after tonight.

After only a second, she takes off her glasses, placing them on the bedside table and removing her robe, before she turns to throw it onto a chair in the corner, turning back to reveal another silk pyjama set. She picks up the tablet lying on the bed, closing over its cover and seeing the video of her in DC on it. She looks back up to him, noting his embarrassed twitch as she places that too on the table and climbs into the bed next to him, lying on her side and pounding her pillow so that she could settle into it.

“Your pillows are much more comfortable than mine. Mine feel like shit,” she comments, her head sinking comfortably as she settles close to him, watching him lying on his back staring at the ceiling.

“This has been my cabin for years. I got the pillows specially. They’re duck feathers,” he retorts quietly, his eyes still open.

“Mm… will have to remember that for when I get home,” she smiles, looking at his profile.

“You can keep it,” he offers, still not looking at her, his hands clasped above the covers.

They lie quietly for ten minutes as she watches his chest rise and fall regularly, his frown intense, his fingers playing a game of twitching on top of each other, fighting for the dominance of who would be on top, though she doubts he even realises he’s doing it.

He’s afraid to go back to sleep. Afraid that he will have another nightmare, catalysing a whole new panic attack. He doesn’t want to go through that again. It’s been five days now and he still feels like he’s not had a proper night’s sleep, though this is the first he’s had a horrific nightmare. He’s glad she stayed though, at least he doesn’t need to play her YouTube video or call her to sit with him because here she is. Her smell, her voice, her breathing right here as his cure.

“You want to talk about it?”

He thinks about that. Does he? He doesn’t know what he even has to talk about.

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

Her mouth quirks at his candour, glad that he’s being honest at least and not hiding from her.

She’s so patient with him; so amiable. He decides that she deserves to know; especially after everything he has put her through tonight. It wasn’t fair to keep her in the dark.

“I had a nightmare,” he offers quietly, his finger twitching ceasing - game over. She raises her eyebrows, shocked that he has even given up that much.

“You want to tell me what it was about?” She asks tentatively, lifting her arm above her head and running her fingers along the fabric of the headboard.

“The terrorist thing... Did they tell you what happened?” He looks around to her now, trying to find an answer in her expression.

She pouts, shaking her head at him, “no, just that you were safe and unharmed. That was enough for me.”

He looks back up to the ceiling, his face still impassive.

“It wasn’t that fucking bad but… it was scary,” he states quietly. “No one, you know, harmed me or like fucked with me but I was shitting myself.”

“Understandably,” she validates, intently hanging onto his every word, though he pauses for a moment, thinking of how to begin.

“We were in the middle of the pitch in the hotel room and some guys came in, talking by the door and disrupting the whole fucking thing. I just ignored them at first; thought Dave had it all in hand and then they took Dave away…” he pauses, taking a deep breath as he brings a hand to his forehead, wiping it solidly and then slapping it back onto his other hand resting on his stomach. She holds her breath, waiting for him to continue.

“Anyway, I seen one of the guys had a gun, then we were told we had to go downstairs with these fucking scary-looking dudes, but Eduard seemed panicked and shifty, so I started panicking. Doing my usual, you know? Trying to joke my way out of going there, but we were forced to go. Then we got to the lobby and there were loads of people there being shifted around by these guys with massive fucking guns and like bullet proof vests and shit. They were pointing them at people when they tried to reason with them or tried to leave, and then we heard screaming in the distance, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared Gerri,” he pauses looking down to her briefly as she bites her lips, her eyebrows furrowed as she tries to picture every little detail of what he was telling her; imagining what it must have been like, what the lobby must have looked like, the kind of guns they were holding.

“I thought we were in a hostage situation which we were but like, I thought it was going to be like one of those fucked up things that always happen in movies - where people were hoarded around and then they would find out who I was and I don’t know… torture me, or make me send a video to my dad pleading for him to wire like a million badillion dollars or something, with one of those fucking fabric potato sacks on my head that they snatch off dramatically. Then I imagined my dad telling them to fuck off and them like… cutting one of my hands off or killing me,” he groans as she sighs deeply.

“And Jesus Gerri, all of the fucking scenarios that just ran through my head when they marched us in that fucking conference room with loads of people and just made us sit there for hours and hours,” he pauses as she continues listening intently as the memory floods out of his mouth whilst she takes it all in.

“So, I tried to distract myself. Played fuck, marry, kill, which you will be happy to know you came out on top on. Laird wants to marry you,” he says seriously, as her face grimaces. “Karl was too busy having a panic attack to answer. That at least was a distraction for a minute, trying to look after him. Then like Eduard came back to try and finish the deal after talking to some of the guys there. And I was like… okay… awkward fucking time to do a fucking business deal but maybe it isn’t that fucking bad if he wants to finish the deal, so I’m probably not going to be brutally murdered at least, maybe just fucking maimed. Anyway, did that for another distraction. But then they came in and asked foreign nationals to identify themselves and then marched them out of the room to fuck knows where…” He huffed, taking a deep breath in and exhaling slowly, then looking around to her. “You know what everyone thinks of Americans. Everyone hates us. I even hate us. I would kill us. So, I thought we were done for.” He looks back towards the ceiling before he continues.

“I thought that was the beginning of the end man. I thought I was going to be made into a soup or something. Then they marched us right out of the hotel where some big dudes with American accents in riot gear threw us into the back of a big black van. I have never felt so relieved to hear a fucking American accent in my whole fucking life. We got taken to the embassy and it was all fine. But I can’t stop thinking about all the things I thought were going to happen; have actually been quite successful at jamming them back out when they appeared. Years of experience in repression have been good for one thing, but then I had that nightmare. Dreamt that I got taken to this dark room, like a fucking cell and they started torturing me when they found out how much money I had. They kept telling me to give them money in cash, like I had it right there on my fucking person. Asking for like $2 billion dollars and when I told them I could get them it but that it wasn’t in my back pocket in cash they just went in harder. Cutting across the skin on my arms, my thighs, taking off a finger each time I said I didn’t have it on me. And I could feel it Gerri,” he says, moving his head towards her again. He lifts his hand to gesture to his bare arm, running his fingers across his skin with a finger.

“In the dream… I could feel them cutting me in the dream and could feel my whole-body writhing with each one they did. I could feel the breath leaving my body as I screamed in pain. I couldn’t see a way out,” he continues, a twitch running through his body as he looks back to the ceiling. “How the fuck was I supposed to get them a wad of cash I didn’t have? They wouldn’t let me transfer it; they wouldn’t let me make a call. I shouted at them to call you; that you would get it for me and fix this whole thing. Then I was afraid that I had said your name. That they would go looking for you next and do the same to you.”

She didn’t know how to take that. It was sweet of course, but they were delving into territory here that had never been spoken out loud.

“But all I could think of was you. Just kept picturing your face and wishing you were there. Then I woke up, but it took me such a long time to realise it wasn’t real, and by the time I realised that I was in a full-blown panic attack. Haven’t had one that bad in years.”

She finally pipes up, her emotions heightened thinking of the fear he must have felt enduring such an intense dream.

“You’ve had a panic attack like that before?”

He looks around to her sadly.

“Yeah,” he offers. “A few times, but not in years. Therapy helped them a lot. They usually last a lot longer than that and end up with me kicking the shit out of myself for some kind of relief. But this one wasn’t so long because, you know, you helped. I’ve never had anyone to call before. Never had anyone to help me and give a shit,” he smiles weakly at her, which she returns with a tear in her eye. “So, thank you. For being there. For still being here,” he says genuinely.

Roman Roy being sincere was something she had not expected to make her stomach flutter and create a lump in her throat.

“Any time,” she rasps out, coughing to clear her throat. “I care about you, Rome. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to you,” she offers back, reaching a hand out to his arm and stroking it gently. He watches her hand move intently, his eyes tearing up as he realises she did care; she really did care.

She frowns when she sees him welling up, raising his hands to his eyes, putting the heel of his palms deeply into his eye sockets and sucking in his breath through his teeth.

“Hey, hey. What’s the matter?” She asks, leaning up on her forearm towards him, placing her free hand on his arm to try and help soothe.

He cackles awkwardly, embarrassed perhaps.

“Sorry,” he clears his throat. “I’m not used to this. Someone giving a shit.”

She moves her hand to his wrist, pulling his hand away from his eye so that he can look at her; his other hand following suit as he gives her his full attention. She puts her hand on his cheek, her thumb rubbing against his cheekbone as he leans into it.

“You’re gonna have to get used to it,” she smiles at him weakly, as she sees him giving her a watery smile in return.

His tears begin to flow again as he rubs them, looking back up at the ceiling, whilst she removes her hand, placing it back on his arm.

“How have you been sleeping?” She ventures, “Since it happened, I mean.”

“Pretty shit. You saw the tablet. You know why I’ve made all those phone calls over the past few months. Your voice seems to be the only thing that helps because it calms me, but I don’t stay asleep through the night and this is the first nightmare,” he shrugs still regularly wiping his tears away, as she thinks how exhausted he must be. He groans loudly all of a sudden, rubbing his head firmly as she jolts at the noise, throwing a quick look to the door.

“Why am I like this?” He whimpers.

“I don’t know, Rome,” she answers gently. “But we’ll figure it out. I think we need to get you back to your therapist though,” she asserts kindly.

“Yeah… the shrink in Turkey said that I could get PTSD. Something about how you need to give it four weeks to see if anything shows up or lasts before they can determine if you have it. That you need CBT if it does. Nightmares can be a symptom, being an asshole and shitty to people is another. Looks like I have two of them so far,” he determines, scratching his forehead.

“You already had one of them before all of this,” she quirks her lips, hoping that a light joke would might help.

He looks around to her shocked, jesting with her finally.

“You cold hearted bitch. Can’t you see I need comfort and affection right now?!”

She laughs lightly, stroking the top of his arm again, simply watching his features.

They lie in silence again for a while, taking in all the truths that had been revealed tonight, when she sees him tear up a little again, coughing through it.

“What’re you thinking about?” She asks, her worry piping up again. He hesitates, fears that he’s going to sound fucking pathetic. 

“It’s fucking stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“I’m scared to go to sleep,” he puffs. “What if it happens again?”

She gives a deep breath, trying to decide how to help this, when an idea comes to her; another boundary about to be crossed.

“Turn off the lamp,” she orders, nodding to the only light switched on in the room behind him on his bedside table.

“What?” He asks confused, looking over to her.

“The lamp,” she repeats, pointing behind him now. “Turn it off.”

He hesitates, reaching slowly over to the lamp to turn it off, plunging the cabin into darkness with only the moon providing a little light as their eyes adjust.

She feels him lie back down on his back as she shifts over onto hers also.

“Come here,” she offers, lifting her arms up, beckoning him.

He hesitates again, unsure what this is, his eyebrow raised at her questioningly. She returns her own quirked eyebrow challengingly; does he think this is a trap?

“Roman, come here,” she repeats solidly, gesturing with her hands for him to come to her, knowing there was enough light in the room for him to see her.

She feels him move to her slowly, wrapping his arm around her waist when she moves her hand across his shoulders, pushing him down to lie across her, his face now pressing against her neck as she embraces him. He adjusts himself so he can get in a comfortable position; his knee bending to touch her thigh, as she hooks a foot over his leg to draw him in closer. She feels him sigh into her neck, his arm burrowing under her pillow as she takes him in, stroking his back.

“Better?” She whispers.

“Yeah,” he offers on an exhale.

“Get some sleep. If anything happens, I will be right here, okay?”

She feels him nod, and a light peck against her neck, making her blush as he burrows into her, finally relaxing before he drifts off to sleep.

She knows they are moving into very dangerous territory here but right now she finds herself not giving a single fuck.


	4. That's the way (I like it)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gerri's thoughts in italics.  
> Roman's thoughts in bold.

She looks at her watch over his shoulder as she feels him drifting off. 4.12am.

She would be lucky to get any more sleep tonight. She knows she’s going to need to wake up in an hour to finish off the plan, but she feels exhausted; the adrenaline of this whole situation finally wearing off. She must have only got a couple of hours sleep before he had phoned her.

She wasn’t used to sleeping in a bed with someone anymore, especially when they were lying across her, breathing on her neck. That was hard not to notice. She can’t deny that it is strangely refreshing though. She rarely feels lonely. Perhaps once a year when she has a moment to actually think about it. However, she has always been very independent. When she was a child and a teenager, she was never one to follow the pack; had always followed her own path. Then even when she had entered adulthood. It wasn’t exactly a natural path for a girl like her to take, going to law school and graduating top of her class. Women like her were paving the way then; it had been the beginning of the surge of female lawyers graduating and laying the groundwork for women now. Going into corporate law especially was not seen as a woman’s work. It was seen as the most cut-throat, most devious of them all; often seen as a man’s world but it’s what she wanted to do. Not only was it what interested her; but the reaction she would get from people was probably what spurred her on more. Perhaps because of the looks: the rolling of the eyes she would get from a lot of the guys she was in class with who would laugh at her like she was a silly little girl about to get a reality check, the uncomfortable glances guys she tried to date would give as though her ambitions had burst their ego, and even the women who looked at her as if she were mad for getting involved in it all. But she was intelligent, and she knew she was. She could outwit, outargue, and mentally fuck nearly every man she came up against so why should she not pursue whatever the fuck she wanted with such a talent. She had been forced to continue to be independent when she was up against so much judgement. She had friends, of course, who had been supportive and caring of her, even when she first started working for the Roy’s. However, her friendships had at times become distanced, when her integrity was called into question over the workings of the Roy’s.

Even when she was with Baird, she had been quite independent though less than she was in her youth. It was a person she could open up to a little, though there was barely any time for it. She was always definitely the more fun of the two of them; he being much older than her probably playing a huge part in that as well as him being very conventional. Sometimes she had managed to get it to rub off on him, but for the most part she was comfortable having her own interests separate from him. She didn’t feel that she needed him to be involved with her interests to thoroughly enjoy them in the off times she actually had time to enjoy anything; just like she wasn’t remotely in a lot of his passions, like golf. She fucking hated golf and was often forced to fucking participate in it just to maintain connections. Why did so many fucking business deals happen on a golf course? She had been forced to become involved in the male corporate world, that she can’t deny. Even to this day, even though she’s in her fucking 60’s, she has to participate. Drinking shots, playing golf, playing tennis, going to the club, corporate retreats, shooting guns – when they allowed her to participate of course. Really, she was happy to just lie on her couch and read a book whilst sipping a martini, but that’s not how you got ahead in the corporate world. You had to play the game. She was independent to this day though; still participating in the things she most enjoyed and not needing anyone’s validation. She was probably still one of the only people who went to aerobics classes when she gets the chance. She loves it though. Listening to 70s and 80s disco songs, exercising to the beat of the music; it’s a complete thrill and completely hers.

This though, the feeling of a person she cares about snuggling into her neck, his arm wrapped around her waist, the smell of him penetrating her nostrils. There was something to be said for this. There was something to be said for giving a shit about someone because you care for them and not because you’re forced to in the course of business strategy. There was also something to be said for someone giving a shit about you. Someone there to listen to your shitty day, someone to make you laugh, and make you remember that you’re a human being and not just the general counsel. She had felt a modicum of that with him since their weekly strategy meetings in the diners when the conversation drifted a little. Even in work though, having someone to strategize with who doesn’t have their own agenda and who you can trust enough to help find a solution that you know acts in your best interests also was refreshing. She missed that the most about Baird; having an ally in this place that you could actually trust implicitly. She feels like she’s finally getting that back. She trusts Roman and knows that he would never harm her, well not deliberately. She was older and wiser than him and understands his behaviour more than he likely knows. He’s wounded and she doesn’t want to take advantage of that; she wants to help him, wants to care for him, be the person for him that she likely needed when she was a kid as well. Everybody wants someone to care about them; it’s only human. And god help her, she cares for Roman… deeply. Deeper than she is willing to admit out loud.

She smiles, looking down at him, stroking across his back a little, feeling his smile against her neck as he tightens his grip around her in his sleep. She closes her eyes, allowing herself to enjoy the moment, allowing herself to momentarily relax and enjoy the feeling of him surrounding her.

She wakes abruptly when she hears a loud ringing across the room, jolting her whole body as he still grips around her. Her heart begins racing, whilst she tries to figure out what the fuck is going on. It takes her a moment to remember everything. What had happened with Roman, that he was sleeping on top of her in his bed, the day they had ahead of them, the work she still had to do before that. She sighs deeply whilst the alarm continues screeching across the room, as he begins raising his head from her neck, looking up at her sleepily. She taps his arm gently, gesturing for him to get up off of her so she can go and turn the alarm off.

“Rome, let me up. I need to turn the alarm off before it wakes the whole yacht,” she whispers groggily, groaning loudly as her muscles betray her as she tries to sit up on the bed, whilst he rolls to the side off her.

“You stay there. I’ll get it,” he instructs, already having bounced up onto his knees and onto the bed, before she has barely even sat up. She reaches across to pick up her glasses from the bedside table, putting them on and watching him as he sleepily walks across the room to the sofa where she had deposited her phone last night, hitting the button on her phone to stop the alarm. He walks back towards the bed with his eyes closed, his hair completely ruffled, holding her phone tightly in his hand, and she can’t help the grin that forms across her face; her heart wrenching at the feeling in her chest when she sees him like this.

“Five-fucking-thirty. Who the fuck gets up at that time?” He grunts sleepily when he climbs onto the bed, throwing the phone onto the covers in front of her and groans dramatically, falling back onto the mattress, face planting into the pillow as she watches.

She laughs outwardly now, picking the phone up.

“I do. Every morning. Normal people with jobs do. I can understand why that may sound foreign to a brat like you,” she jests, still smiling; watching as he groans loudly though muffled into the pillow, his pitch changing the longer he does it.

He turns his head away from the pillow now to face her, his eyes still closed.

“It’s fucking criminal. Put that in front of the fucking Senate in DC. There would be so much more interest from the American public, I can assure you,” he retorts, exhaling deeply and turning on his side whilst pulling the covers back over him. She continues watching him, smiling affectionately, then turning finally to look at her phone. 5.33am. She had to get moving.

“How about you go back to sleep? I have some work to do before breakfast,” she says looking over at him.

He groans again, squinting his eyes open a little, “what work could you possibly have to do that could win over my duck feather pillows?”

She was glad he was back to joking around at least.

“Just some strategizing for the shit show we might be facing today,” she offers, pausing briefly as she watches him sigh and close his eyes again.

She bites her lip again, worried that maybe she shouldn’t leave him.

“Are you going to be okay? Do you need me to stay until you fall back asleep or stay on the phone with you? I could try sneak back to my room to grab my stuff I suppose?” She offers concernedly.

“No, go do your work. I’ll be fine,” he sighs, grabbing the pillow behind her and pulling it into his chest to hug, inhaling deeply.

“You’re sure?”

He opens his eyes and looks directly at her, “I’m sure.” He is direct and looks into her eyes, so she knows he isn’t saying it to make her feel better.

Whilst he’s grateful for the offer, he’s much too tired to back and forth with her, and he honestly feels so much calmer about the idea of going back to sleep alone.

“Okay, honey. They said breakfast is at 9, so how about you come to my cabin at 8.30 and I can give you some of the highlights of the strategy and then we can go up to breakfast.”

He pulls his hand out from under the pillow he is hugging and gives a thumbs up; his eyes still closed, before he quickly burrows it back under the pillow, sighing deeply.

She smiles and moves out of the bed, moving over to the chair next to the bed to grasp her dressing gown, slipping it on.

“Do you realise how many times you’ve called me honey in the last few hours?” She hears his voice softly from behind her.

She looks around to him, he still lying with his eyes closed, hugging his pillow innocently.

“No, I can’t say I have,” she says, tying her robe shut. She hadn’t thought about it. It had just come out naturally. Shouldn’t she have?

“I’ve never heard you say that before… to anyone,” he mumbles.

“I suppose I don’t have much opportunity to say it when I’m in work. I only really call my girls honey. Sometimes used to with Baird. It may shock you, but I’ve been known to be wholesome, dare I say it. I’m a different person outside of work, Rome. You’re probably the only person who has caught a glimpse of that,” she smiles softly.

He hums, nestling into his pillows.

He had never considered that Gerri would be completely different outside of work. He had caught a few glimpses of her as the soft person. You don’t comfort someone as she had last night and let them fall asleep on the phone with you unless you’re a kind, loving person. He can’t imagine the people who work with her see her as anything more than the formidable, intelligent lawyer she comes across as. The woman he seen her as until like a year ago. He didn’t even start getting to know her until Japan and then even more through their weekly strategy meetings in diners. He wonders how much more he doesn’t know about Gerri when it was nothing to do with work though.

“It doesn’t shock me, Gerri. I hope you keep calling me it… And I… I’m sorry about last night. I’m glad you came though,” he whispers, his eyes still closed.

She softens, looking at him lying there so innocently; so vulnerable.

“You have nothing to apologise for,” she says climbing onto the bed, her knees screaming at her in protest whilst she places her hand on the back of his head and she leans down to kiss his temple briefly, extracting immediately and getting off the bed. He smiles tenderly at that; hadn’t expected it at all.

“Like I said last night, I’m here for you,” she offers, smiling.

He hums again, grinning into his pillow as he relaxes further.

“Okay, I’m going. I’m on the phone if you need me and I will leave my door open for you, so no one sees you loitering outside,” she says as she picks up her slippers and phone, walking towards the door, hand resting on the handle as she waits for an acknowledgement; convinced he’s probably still asleep.

“Okay,” she hears him muffle from across the room after a moment.

She opens the door reticently, edging her head out, to look from side to side. The coast was clear. She slips out of the room, closing the door behind her lightly as she tiptoes down the hallway, happy that they weren’t supposed to wear any shoes on this yacht as it makes sneaking around a whole lot easier.

When she finally gets to her cabin, shutting the door delicately behind her, she gives a huge sigh of relief. She leans against the door for a moment, taking in what she had just experienced. Sleep seems like a faraway memory as her body aches from exhaustion; her face feeling as though it were drooping, her knees ready to buckle. But she’s had less sleep than this and she was ready to get on with it. She moves over to the phone next to her bed, dialling the telephone and waiting for an answer.

“Hi there, it’s Gerri. Would it be possible to get a pot of coffee brought to my room, please?”

\---

She finishes writing out her whole plan, re-reading it to ensure that it all makes sense as she sips at her coffee. Finally, when she’s happy with it she looks at her watch. 7.55. He would be here soon, and she should really start getting ready. She saves the whole document onto a USB stick, unwilling to allow Rat Fucker Sam to find it down the line. She will print it later if that’s what it comes down to. If she is chosen.

How people don’t use USB’s, she doesn’t know. How they are willing to just email shit to each other like fucking amateurs is completely foreign to her. She has saved numerous evidences over the years on numerous USB’s over the years, locked in a safe in her apartment, not that anyone knows about them. She knew this world and the games they played; she wasn’t idiotic. She always had a backup plan, but it doesn’t make her feel any less nervous about the prospect of actually having to put it into place.

She begins to pick out her outfit for the day, her thoughts racing and her anxiety rising. She has been feeling a little better about at least finishing the strategy, feeling more prepared at least but as breakfast is looming, she can’t help the sickness she feels in her stomach forming; the bile rising.

She decides on a good old strategy that often worked with her when she’s worried and needs a distraction: playing some upbeat disco music. She picks up her phone and the small portable speaker her eldest had bought her for Christmas, selecting her favourite ‘70’s Disco’ playlist she has saved on Spotify as she walks into the bathroom, and turning the shower on. She allows herself to get lost in some of her favourite songs of her youth, singing along loudly as she quickly showers avoiding her hair, then quickly slipping her dress on and going over her hair with a flat iron.

She’s just finishing off her makeup in the bathroom when he enters, five minutes early.

He has to say that when he closes the door behind him quietly, what he hears isn’t anything he ever could have expected; not even in his dreams.

That’s the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.

He instantly starts giggling when he realises what the fuck is going on, closing his eyes and straining to hear her singing along, sometimes loudly and then sometimes under her breath.

He opens his eyes peering through the crack in the door, seeing a glimpse of her applying some sort of mascara thing, whatever the fuck it is. Then watching as she continues moving her lips to the lyrics, bobbling slightly on the spot in front of the sink.

When I get to be in your arms. When we're all, all alone.

When you whisper sweet in my ear. When you turn, turn me on.

He can’t stop laughing again, trying to stifle it as he takes step back from the door, so he doesn’t alert her of his presence. He can’t help dancing dramatically along to beat in her room to mock her, swinging his hips, and throwing his hands above his head and mouthing the lyrics.

That’s the way, uh-huh, uh-huh, I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.

He doesn’t hear as she walks across the bathroom to leave it a second later to grab her jewellery, only hears her scream as she swings the door open, catching him mid dance.

He jumps, still laughing at being caught, but can’t help quickly going back to dancing on the spot in front of her as she watches him, her hand clutching her chest, her breathing ragged.

“Join me!” He shouts, renewing his vigour.

“You ass! I didn’t know you were here!”Her face turns stoic, though he doesn’t miss the edges of her lips twitching, trying not to smile, whilst he continues swaying his hips in rhythm, rolling his hands over each other.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he comments casually, spinning on the spot.

She shakes her head, walking past him to the bag sitting on the table next to her laptop containing her jewellery. He doesn’t miss the blush on her cheeks as she walks by him though, as he continues his dancing, turning with her movements as she walks through the room.

He watches her as she picks out the jewellery in the bag, whilst the music fades out.

He puffs, placing his hands on his hips when the music finishes.

“Jesus. Think I’ve got a stitch. My trainer will be happy that I got some exercise in this morning though. Daily exercise OVER,” he grins widely, still watching her as new song unknown to him starts up.

She turns back towards him, holding the jewellery she’s selected, her face impassive.

“A stitch from one minute of swaying your hips makes me worry for your future endurance,” she flirts, quirking an eyebrow, then walks directly back to the bathroom without looking at him.

He raises his eyebrows, sucking his cheeks in and rolling his eyes to make a face at her as she passes him.

“So, you were watching my hips movements? Like what you see?” He flirts back, following her, then leaning on the door frame as he watches her cease the music from her phone. She is back facing the mirror above the sink, putting in the hanging earrings one by one into her ears. He watches as she ignores him, collecting a necklace from the sink and throwing it over her head; carefully ensuring the clasp is at the back of her neck and the pendant perfect placed on her chest. He doesn’t think he’s seen anything as beautiful as Gerri standing in her bare feet, a long floral dress on, getting ready for the day. Though Gerri dancing slightly and singing to KC and the Sunshine Band is a close second.

“Don’t tell me you’re that aunt at the party who gets drunk and drags her kids onto the dancefloor to boogie to ABBA?”

She smirks, looking at him briefly and then moves to zip her makeup bag closed, picking it up along with her phone and the speaker, and turning to him.

“I’m more of a Nile Rodgers & Chic fan myself,” she quips as she walks past him into the bedroom as she disconnects the speaker wire from her phone.

He turns around smiling, watching her place the makeup bag, speaker and phone on the table and sitting down at her laptop.

“You’ve got to invite me to the next family event so I can see it for myself,” he smiles, moving closer to her.

“As much as I would like to let myself go and ‘boogie’ as you put it, I can’t. I have an image to uphold unfortunately,” she says honestly, perhaps sadly, plugging in the charger for her laptop, staring back at the screen as she scrolls across the touch pad. He doesn’t realise how quiet he has gone in reaction that that statement.

He thinks that’s the saddest thing he has ever heard. That fun Gerri was stifled by an image she was trying to portray.

“Okay, are you ready to start going through this plan before we go to breakfast?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, wandering over to stand by the window to look out at the view, fiddling with the drapes.

“Great. You know this is likely going to be a blood bath at breakfast, don’t you?” She asks turning around in her chair with a piece of paper in her hand to look at him.

“Do you think so?” He asks surprised, raising his eyebrows as he moves towards a side table, picking up the strange ornament on it; lifting it up to feel its weight and throwing it from one hand to his other. She follows his movements, trying to focus on his eyes but getting distracted by the ornament he is throwing.

“Absolutely. Your dad is going to name someone to take the fall for all of this, and that person is going to put up a fight. It’s not going to be you, Shiv, or Connor; that much is certain. And I don’t think it will be Greg. But I’m going to have a target on my back because I was one of the people who were named by Weissel, making me a healthy public enemy for the shareholders.”

He ceases his movements, looking up at her seriously.

“It’s not going to be you, Gerri,” he states precisely.

“Rome…,” she sighs. “You’re going to have to accept it might be.”

She’s trying to be strong for him. She’s worried about it being her too, but if she shows that now, he will react worse.

“No!” He shouts, slamming the ornament back onto the table, placing his hands on the back of his waist and pacing around the room. “It’s not going to happen, Gerri,” he laughs manically. “I refuse to let that happen,” he says again angrily, looking back over to her.

He can feel the panic rising within him. He’s not going to accept it being Gerri. He will fucking start a fucking duel, or like.. fucking judo chop someone if she’s named.

“Look, calm down. I have a plan. Your influence is bigger than mine with your dad; you know that,” she begins but is interrupted by him.

“What are you talking about?!” He throws his hands up in the air, still pacing, “you’re the fucking General Counsel, my dad’s right-hand man- woman. You’ve always had his ear!”

She looks at him softly. He still has so much to learn.

“No, Rome. Haven’t you noticed that your dad stopped listening to me recently. Whenever I give him advice on anything, he usually goes with the opposite opinion, completely disregarding my experience and knowledge. When I told him that we should come up with a solid pack before responding to the Stewy’s claims over the proxy battle, he sided with Shiv saying that we should respond immediately; when I brought up how going for Pierce could be perceived badly, he was almost offended when I pointed out it’s disadvantages; all of his little digs about how I wouldn’t be able to do the top job if it came down to it. I don’t have any influence with your dad anymore. I think if anything, recent behaviour has made me an even bigger target than I would have been a year ago. But you, he trusts you. You’re family; you’re his blood. You saw how he trusted your judgment over the deal with Eduard. He wouldn’t just make a huge decision like that based on someone’s instinct unless he trusted them,” she pauses watching him, taking in his reaction; seeing how his eyes were expanding at the realisation that what she is saying is true.

She’s right. He never even realised how much his dad had been ignoring Gerri’s advice. He had made a few jibes now about her ability to do be CEO, had even made a shitty dig at her in front of the Pierces, which was fucking insane because if anyone could do that job it was fucking Gerri. And she was right, his dad did seem to be trusting him more? Turning down the deal with Eduard was fucking huge and his dad had relied on his instinct alone. He might have some clout. Even if he didn’t, he would do whatever it took to save Gerri regardless.

“Then what can I do?” He asks, stopping abruptly to look at her, tapping his foot, his lips inverted.

“It’s a big ask, Rome. I know he’s your father and they are your family. I don’t want you to do anything that will jeopardise that… not for me,” she offers graciously.

“I don’t care. Tell me what I need to do to stop it from being you,” he states plainly, wiping his brow and looking back at her seriously.

She hesitantly looks down at her piece of paper, unsure whether she should continue. He is an adult; he can make his own decisions and she needs to trust that.

“I just need you to back me up when I argue my case or mention other people as better candidates than myself. I will do all the arguing. I just need you to agree with me, maybe throw a little fuel onto what I’m saying if you can,” she says looking back up at him guiltily.

“Okay, I can do that,” he says nodding, walking around the room again, fiddling with anything he can get his hands on. “So, who are we looking at?”

“Ehm… well first of all I thought of the potential people your dad is going to consider,” she starts, looking down at the piece of paper she had scribbled her notes on last night.

He nods, standing by her now, picking up a pen from the table and removing its cap and re-clicking it back into place.

“So, the people who were named apart from me were your dad obviously, Kendall, and Tom, but we might as well eliminate your dad because they would never take that, and he would never choose Ken. Which leaves Tom, which I think is the primary target to argue here,” she looks to him reticently, attempting to gauge his reaction.

“Wambsgans. He’s a fuck-nugget anyway. It deserves to be him, especially after the clusterfuck in front of the Senate,” he comments nonchalantly, focussing on the noise the cap makes when it’s sucking in the air when he pushes it shut.

“Yeah,” she sighs in relief. “It makes him a primary target. He looks like a complete fuck up, especially after the human furniture shit and the Mo thing. It makes him look like someone who would be willing to be involved in a devious cover up. I suspect there is something going on there anyway. He initiated the go ahead for the destruction of the documents and Greg signing out those documents makes it even easier. I could probably rake up even more on him, especially from Greg. He’s come to me before about Tom. Could probably get even more if I offered Greg protection or put enough pressure on him. Greg is definitely afraid of me, so it could work. But Tom being a part of a huge cover up on this, on top of Bill doing it in the first place is potentially big enough. And he’s also the head of Cruises and what’s even bigger is that he is a member of the Roy family but not really a member of the family. So, he’s close enough to the family to be a great sacrifice to the shareholders but not close enough that Logan would give a shit about trying to protect him, and he’s believable as someone who would have that responsibility to cover up.”

He continues nodding, walking slowly around the room again as he listens intently to everything she has said.

“Okay. Who else?”

“Well, Karl could work but not as compelling. He’s a part of the old guard, a part of the legal team, and the CFO, which are all pluses. The focus with that would be on the pay outs at the time. So, Bill is the one who gives the go ahead for the pay outs and Karl is the one who gives the go ahead for those pay outs to happen. It could be a perfect sandwich if played the right way. He has been involved in a lot of dodgy shit over the years. Hookers, brothels, weird kinks…”

She looks at him, raising her eyebrows.

“Well, who hasn’t?” He smiles smugly.

“Well, me for starters, well apart from, you know. And you’re the only one who knows about that so if that comes out, I will know who betrayed me,” she counters lightly.

He sniggers, walking through the room further, staring at the floor.

“Anyway, I could bring up a lot of shit that Logan already knows about. Could easily sell it in the media, portraying him as a sordid creep, making him an easy fit for these circumstances. But the downside of choosing Karl is that he is a flip risk. He doesn’t have any loyalty to anyone but himself. He would take your dad down with him when facing the reality of jail time and your dad wants someone who’s going to take it like a man. So, he’s an unlikely choice for your dad,” she finishes, huffing.

“All right. What about Frank? He’s betrayed my dad so many times, wouldn’t my dad consider him?”

“I don’t know. Him and your dad go way back. Your dad fires him because it hurts more when Frank is backhanded because they were so tight. On paper, Frank is perfect. He was COO at the time that all this shit happened. He was the second in command from your dad, so if your dad wouldn’t have made the call above Bill, it would have been Frank. There isn’t much about him in terms of scandal, but he would be the perfect head to wave on a stick. The only problem is, even after everything with your dad and him in the last few years, your dad still trusts him and is loyal to him. They were more or less best friends through the years and he wasn’t named by Weissel, so I don’t think your dad would be willing to choose him. Though, again he would be a perfect pick because he isn’t a flip risk; he’s 100% loyal to your dad in return.”

He nods again, standing facing her from across the room.

“So, Wambsgans primarily. Frank, if we can convince dad to do it. Karl, as a last resort,” he sums up, looking to her agreeably.

“Yeah. Then there is me,” she begins, looking at him as he begins to turn away from her, throwing his hands up, huffing.

“Roman. Come on. We need to consider that people might come for me. They might not because they know I will argue it out with them and likely win. I kept myself clean throughout the years for the most part but there might be the whisper of me as a possibility, and we need to be ready for that.”

“No, Gerri. No one is going to mention you,” he begins raising his voice again.

“But Rome, I also need to talk to you about what plan needs to go in place if I’m chosen this morning, not just about the argument at the table,” she starts but is cut off by him again.

“Gerri,” he stops in his tracks, shouting now. “Stop! We will deal with that if it comes to it but I’m, not going to start planning for something I know isn’t going to happen.”

She huffs, bringing her hand to rub across her eyes under glasses; withdrawing quickly when she remembers she has eye make up on. She looks over to him, watching as the cogs turn over in his head. It’s unusual for him to be the dominant one but she can see that he just can’t take the thought of that just now. She had to remember that he had had a rough night. He was running off of adrenaline likely after several nights of little sleep, the panic attack he had last night still likely in the back of his mind. She didn’t want to start anything that might trigger it to flare back up again.

“Okay, Rome,” she speaks gently, smiling at him. “We will leave it there. I think that’s enough to be getting on with anyway,” she says turning back to the desk, placing the piece of paper back within her notebook and shutting it over. She double checks the document she had been working on is saved onto the USB, ejecting it, and taking it out of the laptop before locking the laptop and closing it over. She hears him continue to pace as she stands up, placing the notepad onto the laptop and the USB on top of that, before herding them up into her arms and moving over to her bed, placing them all down there.

He stops in his tracks, watching silently as she lifts the laptop, moving it into the small safe the room provides, pressing on the keypad to create a PIN. She then moves over to her bedside, lifting her suitcase and removing a small metal box from it with a locking mechanism on it; stretching over the bed to collect her notepad and placing it into the box and locking it firmly before placing it back into her suitcase casually, which she then closes over and places back on the floor by her bed. She then picks up the USB, still grasping the key to the metal box, then moving to the chest of drawers across the room where she pulls out a padded bra, pushing the key into an insert within the cup, and pulling out a different bra to jam the USB into.

He stands looking at her completely astonished as she turns back towards him.

“Are you apart of the fucking FBI? Are you a fucking operative undercover or something? That is the most James Bond shit I’ve ever seen,” he whispers furiously, truly believing it, not a hint of joking in his voice.

She laughs though, moving back over to the desk to collect her phone and checking the time. 8.55.

“No, Rome. I’m just careful. Your father has access to every single room on this yacht. His staff who are under his direction also have access to this room. I’m not leaving anything lying around for his staff to ‘casually’ find and either photograph or put directly into his hands. If they want to find something, they are going to have to work for it and then make it obvious that they stole it. If people were as cautious as me, we probably wouldn’t be in this fucking mess,” she finishes smirking.

“Ugh… You hide shit in your bras? Fucking hot…” he remarks, looking back around to the underwear drawer she just walked away from.

She walks directly up to him, “no one but Baird knows I do that, which means I trust you to keep it to yourself.” She finishes pointing her finger at him, pressing it hard into his shoulder playfully and then turning around towards the bathroom.

He’s the only one alive who knows? Even more fucking hot.

He watches her as she looks into the mirror, fluffing her hair a little and then taking a deep breath. She feels nervous again, completely sick. She doesn’t know how she’s going to stomach breakfast, but she had to put on an act now more than ever. She had to be prepared for whatever was coming.

“You okay, Molewoman? Or do you need an impersonation of Barry Gibb with me belting out a rendition of Stayin’ Alive?” He asks, his head resting against the doorframe to the bathroom, watching her with a cheeky smirk.

She looks around to him, smiling at the twinkle in his eye. At least she wasn’t going into this alone like she usually did; he was here.

She scoffs, collecting her phone and walking past him. “Let’s go, Rockstar,” she declares before taking a final deep breath and throwing the door to her cabin open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: That's the way (I like it) - KC and the Sunshine Band


	5. Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman's thoughts in bold.  
> Gerri's thoughts in italics.

Gerri can feel her nervousness rising as they walk through the corridor in silence. The suspense of what is about to come, becomes overwhelming as she climbs the stairs in front of Roman, up to the deck above. She tries to go over the points in her head, willing herself to focus on something other than what is about to happen.

Why is she so nervous? She’s never usually this nervous. Of course, there is always a level of adrenaline when there is a particularly hard case to argue, however, she isn’t usually fighting for herself. She’s usually fighting for whoever has fucked up, or a whole corporation which would still be standing if she lost. The weight of how consequential this could be to her own life is progressively becoming insurmountable.

She thinks of her daughters and what they will think of her. How it could affect their lives if they have a convict as a mother. Their childhood had already suffered drastically – she had been an absent parent for the most part, attempting to make up for that when she actually was there, ultimately it never being enough; no denying that it had had a negative effect on their lives. She knows that with age, maturity, and countless conversations over copious amounts of wine, they had started to forgive her and build a much healthier relationship. However, she thinks that her doing jail time in the name of the industry she had put before them for so many years could be the nail in the coffin. The thought of that alone was debilitating. The idea of being in jail also makes her want to regurgitate the bile swirling around her stomach. She needs to stop this; needs to trust that the preparation and the plan ahead would potentially save her if she was named. She needs to take a deep fucking breath; that’s what she needs to fucking do.

He’s wary of her silence; can’t imagine what must be running through that wacky genius brain of hers. He knows he’s safe. He definitely won’t be picked, not with his lack of presence in Waystar when all this shit was going on... he hopes. But he can’t imagine a world where Gerri is. He needs to not imagine that world because he thinks his would crumble if he did. All he knows is that for once in his pathetic existence he had to focus. He has to keep his attention fixated on steering towards Tom, or fuckface Frank. Fuck he hopes it’s Frank. He might jizz on the spot if it’s Frank.

As long as it’s not Gerri. He needs to keep his focus on that.

They reach the landing, walking slowly through the living area to the outer deck where the food is; watching as everyone already seems to be there in the distance through the dark glass doors.

“Let’s get ready to ruummbllleeeee,” he shouts in a whisper deeply over her shoulder, hoping it will elicit a laugh from her. However, when he looks over to her, she doesn’t seem to hear him, gulping as she crosses the threshold to the outer deck.

They see Connor and Willa are already at the table talking to a server, Kendall and Logan whispering at the head of the table. She leads the way as she always does, walking ahead of him, a forced happy lilt in her voice as she collects a bowl sitting on the buffet table and bids a good morning to Frank, Greg, and Tom who are wandering there. She gives a glance down to the options, finding there is nothing that interests her there, forcing her to wander over to the table across the room where Shiv and Karl are already selecting their food. He follows her dutifully, pretending too that he sees nothing that piques his interest, though he simply has an overwhelming need to keep close to her; to protect perhaps?

He doesn’t bid anyone a good morning, not interested in pretending that he gives a shit now when he wouldn’t any other morning. However, he watches as she kindly bids Shiv and Karl a good morning, commenting on the beautiful weather as she begins serving little bits of fruit into her bowl. She was fucking good at this.

He can’t tell if she is quieter than usual or if this is just Gerri. It’s not like Gerri is some flamboyant extrovert who is the life and soul of the party, but she’s somehow seems more muted. She has always moved quietly, keeping her cards close to her chest and that could be what was happening now. However, he can’t help but feel she’s particularly off, not that anyone else would fucking notice.

Gerri hovers towards the dining table, strategically trying to think of the best place to sit, choosing to be as close to Logan as a possible; a calculated move in hopes that her proximity will make it more difficult for him to name her. She continues to evaluate everyone’s behaviour, particularly focusing on Logan; trying to determine anything from expression, his movements, his demeanour.

“Let’s have a swim or relax, and then… we can chat?” Roman hears his dad declare lightly as he walks over to the original serving table to collect the items he had spotted earlier.

“I don’t know how relaxing a time I’m personally going to be able to have… but sure…” Roman sneers, unable to avoid voicing the clear tension in the room felt by everyone. Gerri watches him, glad that he’s the one who has articulated exactly what had just passed through her mind.

“Well it’s not going to be you man, so… you can chill,” he hears Kendall comment condescendingly behind him.

He rolls his eyes, bored of people pointing out the obvious to him.

“Yeah, I know,” Roman points out. “But I don’t know what he has in mind.”

He knows his dad. Is completely aware of his ability to turn everything on its head within a moment’s notice and it is unsettling not only from him who has a lifetime of experience of it, but for everyone else in the room who are also anticipating the same bullshit fuckery.

“What do you have in mind?” Gerri asks nervously, her wavering voice more evident than she had hoped for.

“Enough, okay? We stick together. Most things don’t exist. The Ford Motor Company hardly exists…” Roman hears Logan begin as he continues hovering at the serving table; half-listening until he hears Logan ranting his usual comments about how they are different because they are family run.

Gerri continues listening intently to Logan, her focus only on him; hanging on his every word and hoping for some kind of indication of his thought process.

“But… this exists… because…” Logan continues, creating suspense with his continuous pauses.

“Family,” Roman whispers mockingly to himself, finishing the sentence for Logan.

“It’s a family,” Logan confirms, Roman nodding as he continues gathering his food dismissively. “We are a family,” Logan confirms.

Gerri, sits down at the table, still listening attentively to everything Logan is saying; looking up to him apprehensively, holding her breath as she sees he’s gearing himself up to make the selection.

“So, I think… I think the obvious choice… is me…” he hears his father declaring, which piques his interest completely. That he had not been expecting. His father offering himself on a plate. “So, that’s what I would like to announce.”

Roman raises his eyebrows suspiciously, attempting to figure out if this is a potentially choreographed manoeuvre.

Gerri exhales the huge breath she didn’t realise she was holding as she feels momentarily like she has just dodged a bullet but reticent that it is likely tactic flipped onto everyone else in the room for their reaction to it. Logan would never offer himself up as bait. So, she sits quietly, unwilling to have any vocal opinion at the moment; perfectly content to be a silent observer of what everyone else would make of this.

“No! No, you can’t!” They hear Shiv challenge first.

“Well, oh, you know, I may not be responsible, but the buck has to stop somewhere,” Logan responds calmly.

Gerri fights the urge to roll her eyes at that. What’s the fucking point in lying that he wasn’t responsible when she and half the people in this room know that he had been the one to give the go ahead for this whole cover-up to happen in the first place.

“No, No!” Shiv continues protesting, whilst Tom supports this loudly shouting, “No! Never! No, no, no, no, no.”

They hear a number of people quietly protesting collectively, whilst others dramatically shout their protests (Tom!).

Roman rolls his eyes, cringing at the hypocrisy of them all brown nosing his dad. It was ridiculous when he knows that all of them would happily allow it to be Logan, just so it wasn’t them. Absolute fucking two-faced, phony, hypocritical imposters man.

She had given a quiet disagreement, almost a mumble for Logan’s benefit; aware that she had to be seen to be against it before Logan’s hawk eye formally tallying anyone who did not come to his defence. But truthfully, she wishes it were Logan putting himself forward for the slaughter legitimately, instead of a tactic for everyone in the room to protest it to prove their loyalty towards him. She was exhausted from having to play this game still after all of these years and some fucking candid honesty would be a refreshing change.

“Not in the middle of a proxy fight!” Shiv points out severely. Roman looks over to Kendall when he hears him piping up.

“I don’t think so, dad. I don’t think so, no. I mean, maybe a, maybe a timetable, but actually go doesn’t work. When people find Rhea isn’t coming in, we need stability.”

Roman begins moving over the table, taking the only seat unoccupied next to Willa, whilst Gerri’s attention is drawn to Roman for the first as he moves, noting that she hadn’t heard any protest from him, particularly not at the clear level Kendall and Shiv were professing. She thinks it’s odd that he is silent for once, usually the first to pass comment, fighting for himself to be heard. She doesn’t know if this is a particularly good move for him to not publicly declare his support for his father, but her attention is drawn back to Logan as he begins to speak before she can analyse the pros and cons.

Logan continues deviously, playing the game he had become an expert at over all of these years, finally getting to the point he had been driving to this whole time. “Yeah, yeah, you may be right… I need one meaningful skull to wave. If the shareholders meeting were tomorrow, we lose. I need to persuade a couple of big figures. So… anyone like to say anything.”

A deafening silence fills the room, no one wishing to speak up or make eye contact in the chance that any sudden movements may make them a target.

And there it was. What she should have been expected. The show trial. A public fight to the death for everyone to backstab one another. She can’t help but feel glad that she had at least prepared for this, but she would be damned if she would be the person to start naming the scapegoat. She still had some integrity and was only prepared for a potential defence and deflection.

He realises that Gerri had been right; that it would be a blood bath. His dad now wanted people to start giving up each other for who should be the head on the stick? Jesus, his dad was an evil prick.

“I’ll take care of whoever it is,” they hear Logan state.

Like hell he would, Gerri thinks. What was he going to do if they were put in jail? Pay for fucking commissary? Weekend visits? Make sure they got an extra pillow? Fuck off.

“No one will be forgotten,” Logan states again.

She wonders if Logan genuinely thinks that someone was just going to offer themselves up with that fucking promise; surely not as naïve as that.

“Well, I mean I… if we’re doing this, I don’t want to spread shit around. We are all loyal servants. But, so, I… I only say this without malice or forethought… presumably General Council, is centre of the web,” they hear Kendall start off.

Gerri was looking at the table, listening to Kendall’s words intently; her head snapping up immediately when she hears ‘General Council’ uttered; taking a moment to register it was her he was referring to. She knew she would be brought up but she’s shocked to hear her name first. She averts her eyes towards Roman, glancing at his doe-eyed expression briefly, before she moves her attention down the table, seeing everyone peering at her for a reaction as the new focus of the conversation.

Roman looks over to Gerri instantly when he realises she is the one being suggested as the potential fallguy, seeing the moment the realisation hits her; the worry in her eyes as she meets his and then darts them down the table. In that moment, all he can think is how much he fucking hates Ken.

“Sorry Gerri, I like you,” Kendall continues, as Roman looks back to him, fear in his eyes.

Gerri can feel the panic rise from her stomach up into her chest. Kendall’s opinion means a lot to Logan so this could be it decided for her. She looks instantly to Logan, worry in her eyes; the need to ascertain his reaction of her name being put forward an absolute necessity. She watches and feels as Logan places his hand on hers, as he doesn’t even look at her, directing his statement to the rest of the table, “there is no one more loyal than Gerri.”

She feels slightly better at Logan’s reaction, though that statement was not as transparent as it may seem. He was first of all not distinctly disregarding her as an option, carefully avoiding doing that. He could actually be in fact confirming her as a high possibility as he obviously needed someone he believed to be loyal to take this hit for the company who wouldn’t flip on him.

Roman can feel the horror rise within him as he focuses intently on his dad’s reaction, slightly abated by the outward affection Logan exhibits towards Gerri. But he needs to make a move now. He needs to divert the attention.

She needs to do what she came here to do; to deflect the attention away from her and onto another. However, she is shocked and relieved to see that she is beaten to it.

“Exactly. What about Frank? I mean how come Frank is even here today?”

He was sticking to their plan; well he was hijacking the plan. It couldn’t be her and he had to think of who the fuck else he could pick on. Frank was the obvious first thought that comes into his head; his hatred for him evident.

It wasn’t their plan; she was supposed to take the lead and he follow but thank fuck for him because she feels stumped right now. She hadn’t expected to be sold down the river right off the bat.

Gerri looks over to Roman, swiping her hair out of her face, as she sees how focussed, how calm and collected he seems to be. She picks up a hint of anger in his voice; from his hatred of Frank or his defence of her, she doesn’t know.

“Thank you,” Frank asserts casually.

“You’re welcome,” Roman taunts back maliciously.

“I can see it. I’d take it. I make sense,” he hears Frank agree, which he can’t help pounce on.

“Right? And after what he did to you… the boardroom coup,” Roman adds, gesturing to his dad, attempting to add fuel to the fire under Frank’s ass.

“Water under the bridge,” he hears his father dismiss. Roman feels riled by this reception; that his sound point being made wasn’t getting the reaction from his father that he had hoped and that deserved to be punished.

Gerri sits quietly, assessing the conversation, realising the reality of what she had suspected. It wasn’t going to be Frank. That comment from Logan was proof enough. He has forgiven and forgotten the ultimate betrayal from Frank, his loyalty to him too strong; there was no way he would pick him.

They listen intently to Franks weak and wavering excuse that he would be a “less compelling” choice due to the evident lack of loyalty he had given to the family in the perception of the shareholders. However, it takes a turn working in their favour as he diverts the attention towards Karl as possibility with him being a loyal subject; another of the targets on their list.

What they don’t perceive though is Karl immediately turning his argument back around on Gerri, instead of ascertaining his reasons for why he was actually not compelling.

“Uhm, well, my thing, I guess, is that if, uh, Rhea is no more, sadly, uh, we’re back to having, uh, we’re back to Gerri as named successor. So, that fattens her up for the kill so to speak,” he finishes nervously.

She looks to him angrily, the fucking snake she knew that he was. He knew full fucking well that she was never going to get the top spot so that was a cheap shot. She knew he had only named her because Kendall had already brought her up.

“I guess everyone knew I was just a name on a piece of paper,” she laughs nervously, attempting to defend her position as the faux successor, gesturing to Logan for his confirmation of that.

“Ohhh, I think you were always more than that…” He declares smugly.

“I think that’s exactly—” she begins heatedly, ready to defend her position before she is cut off by him again.

“And plus, well wait, hang on, plus you know the old copy book is a bit blotty… Expense accounts… Daughters first class on the company coin,” he jeers, suggesting he’s got her backed into a corner.

She raises her eyebrows, biting the inside of her mouth, trying to diminish her fury as he speaks. She can’t fucking believe he has brought that up considering the number of fucking things she knows this shameless asshole has been involved in over the years. She can’t believe that he would try a cheap shot like that just because he had no fucking valid argument at all to defend himself. He was a real fucking piece of work.

“Right Karl!” She hears her voice rising bitterly. “I just went for the “sports massage”, but I had no idea it was that sort of establishment,” she fires back, ready to continue this fight, because against him, she would fucking win. He had more fucked up marks against his name than she ever could, and she would happily list them for everyone to hear.

“Okay,” Karl responds awkwardly laughing.

“Karl sounds good,” Tom chimes in. “Sausage thief.”

Roman watches the back and forth between them, attempting to abate the dread rising within him as he realises, she has now been brought up twice. The fact that Karl has used some kind of ammunition against her, makes him feel like he should jump in to back her up like they had planned, but he had never been privy to gross antics of Karl, only knowing they existed in some form, but he needn’t worry as she seems to be handling it perfectly well herself.

“You know Gerri is theoretically kind of perfect,” Connor chimes in in agreement, as she sits back in her chair sighing at the realisation, she had now been brought up a third time.

“Here, here,” Karl shouts across the table.

Was this a fucking pile on? She was feeling more and more fucked as the conversation went on. Her name the most fucking brought up now. She thinks this is it. It’s going to be her.

He needs to step in now because this was getting worse and worse.

“Uhm… no. Theoretically, no. That’s bullshit. I disagree. No,” Roman professes loudly.

She looks up to Roman hopefully, finally seeing some light, that he might say something to save her.

“Why?” Logan asks him directly.

“Why do I disagree?” Roman answers, stalling.

They hadn’t prepared for this. He hadn’t allowed her to discuss the possibility of it being her and now he was regretting it. He needed time to think, to come up with something solid.

“Because that’s my opinion,” he says, taking a sip of his juice, postponing any further comment.

“Yeah, but you’re reasoning,” Logan presses further.

She can feel herself looking at him pleadingly. He hadn’t allowed her to talk about how they would defend her if she came up. She had so many reasons. She wasn’t a family member and therefore not a big enough sacrifice. She wasn’t the General Council at the time; Baird was, she was just a senior lawyer at that point. She had come across competent in DC whilst Tom hadn’t. There were a number of reasons.

God damn Roman for being the completely surprising, protective, caring idiot that he was and not letting her brief him on her defence as a target. God damn her for not pressing him more to listen to her so that they had more planning for this. She hopes he comes up with something viable.

She’s nervous as she looks at him, covering her mouth as she inwardly screams her encouragement for him.

“Seriously? Gerri? To pay for cruises we take out a senior woman, haven’t we, you know kidding here, killed enough women already?” He challenges heatedly, not caring if he comes across aggressively. He was growing sick of this and could feel his nerves pulsating as his temper was rising as they attacked her. But he was trying to keep himself cool; wanted to stay calm and collected so that his argument was not lost here. 

He watches as his dad nods slightly towards him, validation that it was not a bad point; Gerri also catches the nod out of her peripheral.

Thank god for Roman Roy. Fuck. It was an excellent point she hadn’t even considered.

“I mean I think the obvious choice is, and I hate to say it, because he’s such a swell guy, is…,” Rome begins turning the tables before making a whipping noise, “Tom.”

He can feel the acidity in his voice becoming more prominent, but he can’t help the hostility rising within him.

These fucking losers would choose fucking Gerri as a choice even though she was actually a fucking intelligent woman who was efficient and good at her fucking job, over the fucking moronic dildos around the table like Tom, Frank, and Karl. It was a fucking façade.

Brilliant, Roman, is all she wants to scream. Brilliant. Move it on. Go for the main target! You’re doing so well!

“Excuse me?” Tom asks weakly.

“Yeah, riiiight, I know, but you know, head of cruises,” Roman fires his reasoning maliciously at Tom.

They continue listening to the conversation move towards Tom, not needing to participate as Tom digs his own hole, Kendall bringing up Gerri’s exact argument from earlier about his shit show of a hearing in DC over Mo and answering the questions in DC that he shouldn’t have answered.

She wishes she felt bad over Tom’s panicked pleadings over how he had taken the beating in DC, but she can’t help the slight relief mixed in with the adrenaline rushing through her from hearing someone else being viable other than her, with Kendall agreeing now that Tom is feasible option as “the face” of this whole fuck up to the public and the shareholders.

Roman listens intently, goading the conversation by reinforcing that Tom was a moron as you should never answer the questions as a general rule in these situations, having learned that from Gerri in Japan.

They both feel better, hearing Karl’s agreement that Tom is an option, Greg nodding along, as none of them had done when Gerri was mentioned before. However, the biggest win of all comes astoundingly from Shiv.

“No, Tom looks logical,” they hear Shiv declare soundly.

Gerri can feel her eyebrows hitting her hairline when she hears it, whilst Roman tries to hold in laughter, his mouth dropping open at the perfection of this betrayal.

“What?!” Tom asks exasperated.

“Cruises, document destruction,” she affirms clearly her reasoning to the table.

“What?!” Tom shouts again.

Gerri can feel her eyes bulging as she watches Shiv double-crossing her own husband. Her goddaughter was ruthless, that she had always known, but this was a new level. She watches as Shiv objectively lists all of the arguments that Gerri herself had formed from the situation, completely aware that Shiv is intelligent enough to make these arguments, and confident enough that Logan will also take them into consideration as solid arguments. Gerri reasons to herself also that Kendall and Shiv often being neck in neck as the most important voices in Logan’s ear, so Shiv’s opinion can be swaying.

“… I’m saying your like family, which is good but also not family, which is kind of good,” Shiv continues, as Gerri nods in agreement.

They all watch awkwardly as Tom and Shiv argue between themselves whilst Tom becomes defensive, clearly hurt by her betrayal of him.

She thinks it insane how Roman had defended her when they were, fuck knows what, whilst Shiv had done that to her own husband. It was telling and as Roman would say, it was fucked up.

Gerri can feel her anger unabated though at being backstabbed three times now, even though Tom is currently under fire. So, when she hears Shiv asking Tom how she works as a possible scapegoat when he suggests Shiv, she sees an opportunity to mention how she actually does see Shiv being a fit as she watches Tom struggle for a possible reason.

“I mean, I guess if we were saying Shiv,” Gerri pipes up, “we’d highlight witness tampering, and uh, you know, that she was going to take over, but…”

She looks at Shiv seeing the outrage across her face, and Logan’s impassiveness, feeling that she needs to go back to her usual tactic of playing all sides objectively.

“… I don’t know. Probably… probably doesn’t work…” She ends weakly.

“Uh… yeah… too fucking right it doesn’t work. It doesn’t make sense. I’ve never been inside,” Shiv defends venomously.

However, Roman sees the opportunity to step up again to back up Gerri as they had planned, hoping to also inhibit a potential possibility of Shiv going on the offensive and turning on Gerri now that she had just been targeted. His tactic? To make Shiv go on the defensive again.

“How about both of them? Shiv and Tom? Beauty and the Beast?” He suggests bitterly, sprinkling it with a layer of humour.

Gerri is shocked by his ruthlessness, watching as he willingly sacrifices his sister to the cause.

“Does Tom work?” They hear Logan interrupting, asking the table firmly. 

“Honestly, Tom. I don’t think he’s a big enough skull. No offence,” Kendall ascertains.

She’s back to feeling the anxiety rising again. She had honestly thought she was out of the clear there, with Tom being the main candidate backed up by almost everyone at the table. However, she finds she can’t speak up to reinforce how he was, to reiterate that it could be an easy sell as a family member; the angst within her is too crushing.

“Then, how about Tom with some fucking Greg sprinkles,” Roman suggests shrugging.

Another tactic that they hadn’t discussed which was completely compelling. He honestly doesn’t realise how good he is when he tries.

“What? Greg sprinkles?” She hears Greg anxiously speaking up for the first time since they had sat down at the table.

“Yeah, just a party pack. You as a sweetener,” Roman suggests flippantly again.

“Yeah, yeah,” Connor agrees chuckling, putting his two cents in for the first time since he had suggested her. “Elmo and Big Bird. I could see that. And then you throw in like a Karl, or a Frank, or a Ray.”

She watches as both Frank and Karl begin agreeing, knowing that they are absolutely not on board; then Karl’s angry exchange with Connor for bringing his name up again.

Roman begins to egg Greg on, answering his question jestingly that Greg sprinkles are a garnish on top that could be the extra layer of anyone at this table, hoping to divert attention again.

However, her interest piques when she hears Greg suggest Roman, ready to jump to his defence on how he has had zero involvement in all of this, and his future prospects based on his good work recently though she can’t get a word in as Roman fires back.

“What about you? What about Roman?” Greg suggests weakly as Gerri’s heart stop momentarily.

“Me? Let’s hear it. What’s the pitch?” She watches as Roman handles it perfectly, putting all of the onus on Greg to come up with a workable reason; knowing there isn’t one.

“You’re widely known as a horrible person,” Greg comes up with weakly.

“Thanks toe-jam,” Roman responds laughing at him.

“It could be Roman!” She hears Greg shouting loudly next to her.

However, the whole prospect is quickly forgotten when Connor pathetically offers himself up as bait, his financial issues clearly being the only reason. She can feel the whole table roll their eyes, laughing at the idiocy of the suggestion that he could ever possibly have been a puppet master behind the scenes all of these years.

However, everything is turned on its head again as Logan interjects.

“Yeah, so I… I need to reflect. I mean… we’ve uh… half an idea, but uh… yeah...” Logan states as he stands at the head of the table, beginning to walk away. “Later?”

She can’t believe it. That’s it? That’s it done? Now he’s going to go away and make a decision based on only that?

He doesn’t know what to think. Doesn’t know if he’s said enough to steer away from Gerri and towards literally anyone else.

The whole table sits in silence, nervous energy filling their surroundings as they watch Logan silently walk away back into the yacht.

“What’s— what? We have half an idea? What’s a half an idea?” They hear Tom ask the table.

He truly was a fucking idiot. The fact that she is still a potential option next to him is just fucking ridiculous. She looks down to Tom and then back to her bowl, sighing deeply, and then closing her eyes. Her stomach is churning as she tries to go over everything that has transpired, trying to figure out where she sits in the Logan’s potential options now.

Roman looks across to her, his eyes sad as he watches her look defeated whilst the rest of the table remains quiet, Tom’s question going unanswered.

Tom stands abruptly, excusing himself with the reason of having to get ready for his and Shiv’s day trip. Roman chances a glance at Shiv, seeing the panic and guilt within her as she watches Tom leave.

“I’m just gonna go… you know…” Shiv says as she gets up from the table, silently following him out.

Connor chimes in, “I really think all of this is just—”

However, Kendall cuts him off. “Look, I think it’s best we just don’t discuss this anymore. Dad will make his decision and we are all adults here and we know how it works so there is just going to have to be no hard feelings,” he surmises as he picks up his spoon, beginning to eat his breakfast, whilst Karl and Frank follow silently, digging into their bowls.

Connor raises his eyebrows surprised, following Kendall’s leadership by picking up his own spoon and beginning to eat, as Willa does also.

“Greg sprinkles. Fuck you, man,” Greg mutters towards Roman as he too stands abruptly and storms out through the glass doors.

Roman rolls his eyes, too much on his mind to give a shit about Greg being offended.

He takes another drink of his juice, watching as Gerri finally opens her eyes, having been nudged by Greg getting up.

He makes eye contact with her briefly, chancing a weak smile at her, though she doesn’t return it. Her lips are sucked in, holding eye contact with him, as he sees her eyes glistening with the beginning of tears. She shakes her head, pushing her chair back from the table; unable to even stand being around food just now, just its image making her want to throw up.

“I have some work to do back in my cabin,” she announces lightly, attempting to be as airy as possible. He doesn’t take his eyes off her as he cautiously watches her beeline for the doors back into the yacht, her head held high, no rush in her steps.

He wants to run after her but knows he can’t be seen to be doing that at the moment. He had to be strategic still, they weren’t out of the fire yet. He feels as though he is suddenly sitting on a chair of ants, his tension rising, wanting to be with her; completely aware that she is upset and not being able to do anything about it. However, he tries to play it cool, ready to pounce at the earliest opportunity to make his way to her cabin.


	6. Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts of Gerri in italics.  
> Thoughts of Roman in bold.

As soon as she thinks she is out of sight of everyone at the dining table, she begins quickening her pace towards her cabin. She can feel the tears spilling from her eyes, as much as she wills them not to. Her hands regularly come up to her face, aggressively swiping them away; an attempt to remind them that they have no business here right now. She’s so angry; can feel the rage surging with her as she strides down the corridor. Her veins within her forearms are pulsating as she reaches for the door handle to her cabin, the thrumming in her wrist giving her no choice but to slam the cabin door closed behind her. She throws her phone onto the sofa, removing her steamed-up glasses, putting them on the desk, as she begins pacing the room silently, only the thumps of her bare feet thudding against the carpeting able to be heard in the otherwise silent room.

_She can’t believe they fucking ganged up on her like that. She can’t believe she is a fucking main contender in this. She knew she would be considered but after everything she had done for this family and this organisation; all of the fuck ups she had solved and made go away for them. Each and every one of them._

_Ken and his fucking theft, his addiction, and the fuck ups he had created because of that addiction. Gone. No mention of it anywhere; obliterated because of her work._

_Connor and his absolutely MORONIC run for Presidency, his idiotic behaviour with women in his past because he literally didn’t know how to properly fucking communicate with a woman. Not to mention his tragic behaviour of having to literally PAY his girlfriend to be with him to the point he is now financially ruined. All of it downplayed, NDAs signed because she had handled it competently and silently._

_Then Karl. FUCKING KARL! Well how much had she fixed for him over the years! The sordid fucking kinks he had been involved with, with numerous prostitutes willing to come forward to leak to the press exactly what he got up to with them in numerous fucking dungeons and the rest of it! He should be fucking begging her not to divulge that. Not an ounce of fucking loyalty in any of them._

“God they are such fucking sly, hypocritical, fucking UGGHHHH!” She hears herself shout, as she continues treading the room, pressing her fingernails into her palms as she tries to control the urge to destroy her surroundings.

_She wants to hit something; wants to wreck this whole room, this whole boat. Wants to make someone feel the anger and betrayal she is fucking feeling within her._

She looks around the room wildly, imagining all the destruction she could cause. She envisages picking up that chair and throwing it through the window, visualising as the wood of the legs would splinter, decimating the chair into mere chips. She could pick up the bedside lamp and throw it into the mirror above the table, fantasising the idea of the stained-glass of the lamp shattering with the mirror shards across the carpeting. She could pick up the stupid fucking shaped ornament on the end table that Roman had been fiddling with yesterday and...

_Roman. She forgot about Roman._

_What would she have done without Roman?_

She can feel herself calming down a little, taking a deep breath to try and control her heaving chest.

_He had been so eloquent and passionate in his arguments. She was truly so grateful to him for taking the lead in their plan when she couldn’t. She knew he had it in him to be a brilliant COO and probably even CEO in time if he kept progressing in the last year. Under her direction and with her encouragement, he had flourished so much. She was sure he would be able to continue without her; he just needed to have some confidence in himself. To believe in himself as she believed in him._

She sits down on the sofa, thinking silently; her cheeks still wet and her eyes swollen from her fallen angry tears. She sits on the edge of the sofa, her elbows biting into her thighs, her fingers pressing into her mouth as they support her heavy head whilst she hunches over thinking.

_It was going to be her. She was sure of it. There were four big players in this: Logan, Ken, Shiv, and Roman. Logan had unsurprisingly not shown his hand, whilst Roman had defended her and gone for Tom, Shiv had agreed with Tom’s viability and given no opinion on her, whilst Ken had suggested her and even though he had gone for Tom, had later dismissed him as not being important enough, but she had Karl and Connor suggest her so did that mean anything? She was trying to figure out numerically who came out on top as the most likely between her and Tom. At the moment, she felt that even though Roman and Shiv had influence with Logan, Ken was the one whose opinion most had influence with him. That meant her. He was sure of her, unsure of Tom. She was fucked. Either she was going to jail after a horrendous legal battle or if Plan B worked, she was likely out of a job for betraying Logan. Just the thought of the fight before her was exhausting._

Roman approaches her door, finally having been able to get away from the fuck fest. He had reviewed the table a moment after she left, realising that he didn’t give a shit what fucking Connor, Willa, Karl, or fucking Frank thought about his abrupt departure, however, Ken was still there. Even though he loved Ken, he knew especially after Austria that Ken was his dad’s bitch. He would need to wait Ken out at least or leave after a reasonable amount of time. Thank fuck Shiv had left because he had been unable to control the twitching of his right leg under the table as he ate some of the pieces from his bowl he had collected earlier. He had engaged in small talk, eventually changing the subject with Ken, attempting to put him on the defensive by asking about Naomi; watching as he squirmed and mumbled a pathetic explanation about why she left and where they stood now. He could feel the slight smirk cross his lips at that, seeing Ken become more closed off and then make a quick excuse to leave the table to see if he could get in some exercise.

As soon as Ken had started walking away, Roman had also stood, stretching dramatically and making a loud screeching noise to gain the attention of everyone there.

“Well fuckers, this horrible person is going back to his cabin to jerk off to the thought of Greg’s sad little tears. See you all fuckin’ never,” he declared, not waiting to watch the eye rolls and hear the groaning as he walked indoors, only Gerri on his mind, beelining for her cabin door after skulking past his own.

Now he was here though, he finds his fist hovering in the air as he is about to knock on the door. **He didn’t want to barge in; afraid that maybe she might not want him there at the moment.** **Maybe she would see him as a distraction from whatever evil genius plan she had in the works now, or wasn’t willing to hear his usual psychotic drabble whilst trying to process everything.**

He lowers his fist, staring down either side of the corridor, determining if he had more time for consideration. It was clear; no one in sight.

**He really should give her his privacy, but then what would he do? Go back to his cabin, lie in his bed, and twiddle his thumbs worrying about how she was? He remembers seeing the tears in her eyes as they bore into his own before she left the table.**

**Nah, he had to see if she was okay, and would happily take the abuse if she wanted to dish it out.**

He lifts his fist determinedly and knocks on the door, his usual death march theme.

He waits, straining to hear potential footsteps or any kind of noise.

“It’s- It’s open,” he hears her strangled, quiet voice through the door.

He pushes the handle down, nervously opening the door and moving through it as he sees her beaten form sitting on the sofa across from him. He doesn’t take his eyes off her as he closes the door quietly behind him, locking the mechanism so there was no risk of anyone seeing her like this. Seeing her look so defeated was devastating; her hunched over, her head hanging, her hair covering her face, as she faces the floor, her hands clasped in front of her as she leans her elbows on her knees.

“Hey,” he offers quietly.

 **It’s pathetic, but it’s is all he can think of.** **He’s never been good in these situations ever, and he’s also never seen Gerri like this.**

_She had known it was him. Not only from his usual knock, but who else would come to her after that but him?_

She lifts her head slowly, looking up to him, her eyes still swollen.

“Hey,” she whispers, her face expressionless as she takes him in.

He can see she’s been crying. The clear evidence of a puffy face; the smears of soaked black makeup having been swiped around her eyes.

**He feels awkward. Has never been good at any of this. But he’s particularly nervous when it comes to Gerri. He didn’t want to fuck it up for her. Gerri always knew what to do, she was the one to always tell him what to do. But he had to think of something, to be a comfort to her.**

“Uhm… are you okay?” He ventures, putting his hands in his pockets, shuffling from side to side, looking at the floor and then up to her to take in any modicum of a response.

She’s looking at the floor again, taking deep breaths; looking up to him when she hears him speak.

_She doesn’t know how to answer that. She isn’t okay. That she knows but she doesn’t think she’s ready to be so openly raw with him. She doesn’t think he would be able to cope with the truth, so she says the only thing that is playing on repeat in her mind._

She sighs deeply, then whispering, “it’s going to be me, Rome.”

She looks back down immediately, the weight of saying it out loud hitting her.

_It sounds so calm when it comes out of her mouth. Is she resigned to it now? Or just exhausted from lack of sleep and the years of these games she’s been playing? It finally was coming to a head after years of dodging being the target._

He looks down to the floor, closing his eyes, a deep sigh coming from him also.

**He knew after what had happened that it had been between her and Tom, but he had honestly thought he had deviated the attention enough towards Tom; had been able to argue that Greg on top of that would be a big enough sacrifice. But she was far more intelligent than him, and if she had weighed up it would be her then he hadn’t done enough.**

“I’m sorry, Gerri,” he chokes out, shaking his head as hers snaps up to look at him in surprise. “I didn’t do enough. Should have gone in harder for you,” he says looking up to her apologetically, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

**He’s so disappointed with himself. He should have done more.**

“No,” she whispers, her eyes boring into his, shaking her head. “No, you were brilliant, Rome. The points you brought up were so intelligent. Ones that I hadn’t even come up with… even if you did call me old,” she reassures, chancing a light joke when she sees how crestfallen he looks.

“You’re not old,” he assures her seriously.

“I am but thank you. Trust me, Rome, you did great. You’ll make a brilliant CEO one day. And if I’m not chosen today, it will only be because of you defending me when no one else did. So, thank _you,_ Rome,” she praises with the ghost of a smile on her lips.

He stands silently, unsure how to take her compliments and praise. He wasn’t used to being on the receiving end of that, and he felt like it wasn’t the time for his usual mock bravado of how great he really was.

“It was me who was the problem. I should have spoken up more,” she begins angrily, standing abruptly before him.

_She had to get to work on the plan; had to salvage what little of it was left._

“I don’t know, you gave it back to Karl pretty strong,” he says, rubbing his neck with a weak smile as he watches her begin moving over to the small safe in the room, keying in the code she had chosen earlier.

“That worthless piece of shit!” She grits venomously, closing the safe over after retrieving her laptop and moving it over to the desk. “He had some fucking nerve bringing up the few minute things I have done, considering what I know he has.”

She opens the laptop, powering it up; becoming impatient with how long it is taking, she paces towards the bathroom, momentarily forgetting why she has. Realising that she just needs to move around, not stand still.

He continues watching her pace and can’t help realising the role reversals since last night as he stands still on the spot, biting the skin around his nails.

“It’s between me and Tom,” she declares as she turns on her heel, glancing towards the still loading laptop, continuing her strides past him again. “I just can’t believe I was brought up the most. I thought… I thought I would be brought up. I’m General Council and I was named by Weissel, but fuck… I didn’t think I would be brought up the most. I didn’t think it would be me. I really didn’t.”

She stills her movements, parallel to him now, bringing her hands up to cover her face as her tears start flowing again.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbles as her tears flow harder. _She feels stupid for crying in front of him, but she can’t help it._

He approaches her slowly, putting a hand up to her shoulder slowly and gently rubbing there.

**He’s nervous to comfort her; nervous of the rejection that could come from her if he tried. He doesn’t know how Gerri works in this context; unsure whether she would want another person’s comfort or lick her own wounds like the bad bitch she came across as. But he goes with his instinct; of what he would want it were him; of what he did want last night.**

“It’s okay,” he whispers, grasping her shoulder now, tugging her towards him.

She looks up at him, her cheeks wet, her mouth tightly bursting, as though she is trying to hold in an explosion. **He supposes she is.**

**He’s never seen this side of Gerri. If he were asked to make a bet months ago, he would have doubted that Gerri ever cried, but maybe this is the side to her she spoke of last night – the side that no one sees.**

She lets out a sob as she sees he’s attempting to comfort her, falling into his embrace as she brings her arms up around his back whilst he pulls her in, tightening his arms over her shoulders. He can feel her body wracking against his with each sob she quietly emits; her mouth and nose pressing tightly against his shoulder with her eyes tightly shut. **He can’t think of a time where he has felt so bad for someone. He never usually really gave a shit about anyone**

She can feel his hand trailing up her spine, onto her neck, and then under her hair, threading through the strands as he settles his palm on the back of her head, his fingers stroking against her scalp soothingly. He can feel her embrace of him tightening, clinging to him for dear life as her nails press further into his shoulder blades.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she hears him whisper calmly. “Just let it all out.”

She feels herself fall into him deeper; permission having been granted, as she continues her muffled cries into his shoulder.

**How was this suddenly coming so naturally to him to comfort her? Now that he had her protected in his arms, it just seemed easier? He wants to say something; wants to try and make her feel better. All he can do it tell her the truth. That even though she likely knows better; he doesn’t think it’s going to be her from what he had seen for himself.**

“I think Tom will be chosen, not you,” he whispers, his hand not in her hair stroking smoothly along her back. “Even his own wife gave him up, and Karl and Connor agreed that he was a good choice. And even Ken.”

“Ken said he wasn’t important enough,” she mumbles against his shoulder, sniffing in, trying to cut back on her hysteria.

“Yeah,” he agrees, raking his nails down from her hair to the back of her neck, trying to begin kneading the tension there. “But with Greg and even fucking Karl and Frank thrown in with Tom, it’s more compelling now. Ken didn’t say anything after that became a suggestion. Think about it. Mo the bad apple, with Tom the shit show trying to cover up, using his Executive Assistant, Greg to do so. The evidence is basically there with him signing out the documents to be shredded. And if my dad really doesn’t think it’s enough, then add the other two fuck wits playing their part: Frank giving the final go ahead and Karl issuing the pay offs. It’s perfect. Where’s the evidence for your involvement with all the document destruction? There is none. They will have a hard time proving it without witnesses and we can try head them off if there are any,” he reasons, feeling her convulsions dissipating. She opens her eyes now, looking over his shoulder, considering what he has said.

_He had a point. A perspective that she hadn’t considered. Maybe that’s how Logan would see it too._

“I’m not going to let it be you, Gerri. I will fight my dad on it if it’s you, so don’t worry,” he whispers, brushing his lips inadvertently against her ear, pressing the side of his head against hers.

She hugged him tighter, her eyes fluttering closed at the sensation, remaining silent and burying her head into his shoulder; her tears no longer falling as his voice soothed her and his words bringing the ability to reason back into her mind. _She just needed a few more moments of this, of some comfort._

_She can’t remember the last time she had cried. It came about very rarely. She just wasn’t that person. But more salient now, was that she couldn’t remember the last time she was properly embraced for comfort. She briefly hugged her daughters whenever she seen them, and the odd friend when she had the time to catch up with them, but really embraced like this? Just like last night, there was something to be said for this. Just being able to let everything go and trust someone to catch you when you were falling._

His voice interrupts her thought process, as she enjoys the feeling.

“Gerri Kill-a-man Kellman, you’re a badder bitch than all of them put together. With your brain and my name, we will figure it out,” he states strongly, rubbing his hand between her shoulder blades.

She chuckles, tempted to mention that badder isn’t actually a word, but instead ignores it, wishing to focus on his attempt at comfort instead.

“Sorry, I think I’m just tired,” she mumbles as she retracts herself from him and wiping her eyes and cheeks.

“You don’t need to apologise. Not to me,” he tells her, putting his hands back in his pockets, no longer knowing what to do with them, now she has been released. “And you’re probably exhausted from having to handle a certain unnamed neurotic loser last night.”

“Don’t call yourself that,” she chuckles lightly, slapping his arm before going back to wiping her face. “I don’t like it,” she finishes weakly.

“If I recall correctly, you’ve called me worse than that in the name of my raging orgasms,” he laughs, his eyes sparkling as he watches her walk over to the bed, plopping herself on the side.

She looks up to him seriously, “you know I don’t mean any of that. You know I only say that to help you get your release and I don’t actually think it’s true. Don’t you?”

He begins fidgeting, unsure how to answer that question.

**He doesn’t know if he did know that. To an extent he probably did. She wouldn’t put that much effort into him if she had or offer to care for him as she had last night and in Argestes; or stay on the phone with him when he couldn’t sleep. But there was always a part of him that considered the only reason she put so much effort into him was because he was such a mess. To stop him being such a fuck up? She wouldn’t be the first person to tell him directly what a fuck up he was, nor would she be the last. And she wasn’t the first to tell him him how disgusting his sexual antics were, though with other girls it had never ended in him ejaculating. And it wasn’t as if they had exactly discussed why her insulting him got him off, and she had never asked him why it was insults that worked for him? Not that he knew the answer to tell the truth.**

“Roman?” He hears her asking firmly, snapping him out of his thought process. He looks at her, sees her looking at him expectantly with her eyebrows raised. He must have been quiet for a while now.

“Uhm… yeah. Yeah, I know,” he answers awkwardly, his hand brushing across the back of his neck again as he removes his eyes from hers boring into him.

_He didn’t believe her. That much she could see. She could tell him now all of the things she did think and how much she didn’t think all of that but if she were honest, she was too exhausted; knew it was a longer conversation, needing much more attentiveness that she was able to give right now. There was no way that one comment now would stop him thinking that anyway; it was definitely going to be a long-term thing for him to change his mindset._

She can feel her body sagging, her body weak from the amount of anger and upset it has faced in the last hour.

 **He can see how exhausted she looks, as she hunches on the end of the bed**.

“How about you try and get some sleep for a few hours. I think most of the losers are going off the yacht anyway so no one will notice. Plus, you don’t want to be around those fuckers just now anyway. I know I don’t,” he comments, moving closer to stand next to her.

“I need to prep, Rome,” she breathes out, pushing her hair back from her face exasperated, looking up to him.

“I will wake you in a few hours and we can prep then. We can brainstorm world domination,” he offers, smiling down at her.

_She had done all of the prep last night and this morning anyway, so she didn’t even really have much to do. And she doesn’t feel like her brain can function right now. He was right; she could get up in a few hours. Nothing would likely happen until dinner; that gave her maybe seven hours to play with._

“Yeah, okay,” she agrees, standing up and immediately crawling onto the bed, too tired to even consider changing or pulling the covers back.

He walks around the bed, over to the window next to the empty side of the bed, closing the drapes so that there wasn’t so much light in the room.

She watches him as he does so; smiling as she sees his sweet expression as he looks back over to her concerned.

_She thinks about it for a moment. Second guesses whether she should actually take the plunge. But fuck it. Who knows what would happen in the next 24 hours? She could be overboard or in handcuffs by then at this rate. She could take a few chances._

“You look tired as well,” she begins, never taking her eyes off him. “Stay with me,” she whispers, patting the opposite side of the bed next to her with her hand.

“Really?” He asks, his voice raising in pitch.

She nods, offering a small smile as she watches him take his phone out of his pocket in response, placing it on the bedside table once he has set an alarm.

He climbs onto the bed awkwardly and lies down facing her, whilst she looks right back at him.

**He’s unsure what to do. It was Gerri, right here in front of him, in broad daylight. Gerri was usually the one who takes the reigns, just like she had done last night. She knows exactly what he needs before he does. But he’s the one who’s here for her now, she played her part last night and now he would play his.**

He reaches out and takes her hand lying between them on the bed, looking up to her to see if it was okay; seeing a sweet smile from her, feeling her squeezing in return, before she closes her eyes, breathing softly.

He spends the next fifteen minutes just watching her features as she falls into sleep. He sees how her face relaxes, her eyelashes half covered in makeup now, with the other half around her eyes, her lips slightly parted as she quietly exhales through her beautiful lips, her cheek half squished up against her pillow, her chest rising and falling slower and slower as she enters a deeper sleep.

**He hadn’t had an opportunity to do this last night, being pressed up so close to her, and he is sorry he hadn’t. He would love to go to sleep like this for the rest of his life. Seeing it was fifteen times better than hearing it down a phone, and now he’s afraid to go back to just sleeping alone when this the most perfect way to enter sleep.**

**He had surprised himself today. Surprised at how he had been so focussed, competent, and completely unwavering in his arguments. But hadn’t that always been what Gerri had brought out in him?**

He watches as she shuffles in her sleep, her head moving so that her hair was falling over her face. He moves his hand from hers, swiping the strands away from her face, when she starts to jerk in her sleep at the disturbance; shifting onto her back, and then onto her opposite side, facing away from him, the hem of her dress riding up higher so it settles at her knees as it twists around her body.

He frowns. **He wasn’t quite ready to have given up burning her sleeping form into his memory bank; not knowing the next time this might happen. He definitely wasn’t ready to give up the warmth of her hand in his, but he considers himself lucky to have had the few minutes he had had.**

He closes his eyes, content still to just be next to her, until he hears shuffling again. His eyes burst open, watching as her hand reaches behind her body, still facing away from him; patting the covers between them as she blindly searches for something. When she is clearly unsuccessful, he watches her shifting half-way onto her back, her eye peeking open to find what she is searching for.

Finally, when she finds his hand grasping it tightly, she hums, turning back onto her side facing away from him, but taking his hand on the journey with her this time so his arm begins to wrap around her; he shuffling closer to her so she doesn’t yank his arm clean off. He feels her readjusting, nestling there now tightly woven hands secured soundly against her chest as he settles, pressed up against her warmth of her back as he embraces her. He presses his face into the back of her head as she sighs, squeezing his hand tighter, her legs bending so that she can reach back to entwine her legs around his. 

**He thinks he would have been surprised by this move had he not been in a similar position last night. Simply wanting some kind of comfort and maybe considering she had even enjoyed sleeping with him last night more than he thought? He would never have thought this of Gerri – the stone-cold killer bitch, but he happily adds this to the growing list in his head of “Things I didn’t know about outside work, Gerri”, and smiles, nestling closer into her, tightening his grasp.**


	7. Talk to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts of Gerri in italics.  
> Thoughts of Roman in bold.

She wakes to an unfamiliar loud alarm going off behind her, screeching throughout the room. Her eyes open abruptly to the dark room, only a little bit of light seeping through the drapes behind her. His arm which is tightly around her begins moving, extracting his hand from hers, trailing across her chest and waist, as she feels him shift behind her with a loud groan. She rolls onto her back, looking over to him; watching as he reaches over to his phone on the bedside table to turn the alarm off. She shifts onto her side, facing him; watching as he falls onto his back, his head hitting the pillow heavily as he sighs deeply.

“What time is it?” She croaks out, settling her hand up between her face and the pillow.

He looks around to her, shifting to face her as he sees her watching.

“Three,” he answers, throwing his arm over her waist and pulling her in close again, as he closes his sleepy eyes, breathing softly again whilst he embraces her.

Her eyes are wide open though as she watches the soft, calm features on his face, bringing her hand up to rest on his bicep gently as she strokes there, hearing the hum he elicits; his approval of her care.

She feels more rested, momentarily forgetting everything that had happened and everything due to come because she can only focus on this moment.

_If she had asked herself a year ago if she would be here, she would be aghast at the thought. If she considered she would feel as content and giddy as she does right now, she would have suggested being institutionalised. But she was here, and she was sad to think she may need to leave it. She might not be around for the foreseeable future. She may not be able to explore whatever it is; of what it could have become. Because whatever it is, there is something here._

She smiles as she realises it, though it quickly changes to a sadness as she realises there may not be any time to progress it; astounded at herself that she finds herself wanting to progress it.

She has the same nervous jolt run through her that she had earlier before she invited him to nap with her; the thought that she should perhaps take a few chances since she may never be able to again. This could be her last opportunity.

So, she takes the plunge. The plunge she never would have anticipated that she would take and leans her head forward to kiss him gently.

He was lying peacefully, just happy to feel the flesh of her waist through her thin dress, the pads of her fingers as she caressed his arm, the smell of her perfume as he inhaled her scent, when he feels her kiss him.

**He’s astounded. Doesn’t know what to think. Here he was, lying in Gerri’s bed, with Gerri kissing him. In his wildest dreams, this hadn’t been a scenario. He always thought he would pounce on her at some point. Like, when she was in the middle of a sentence talking about a fucking NDA and did something too sexy, like brushing her hair out of her face one time too many that he wouldn’t be able to take it anymore. Or he might convince her to have one martini too many and she would become flirtatious and not push him away when he took his chance. Or like fucking her being pricked by a cursed spindle and he would need to kiss her so she would wake up from a fuckin 100-year sleep. This, however, Gerri kissing him randomly, was not in the rolodex of ways he imagined if he and Gerri’s first kissed.**

He opens his eyes abruptly, just to check it’s real. Watches with bulging eyes as Gerri with her eyes closed is attached to him, her lips pressed to his as she moves her bottom lip, sucking against his to entice him further. However, he is frozen, completely unresponsive in the shock of the whole scene, and she notices.

He first sees her frown, then her eyes open as she pulls back, looking at him confused.

She sees his expression, his eyebrows reaching his hairline, his eyes wide from shock, and confusion, his lips still straight having not twitched an iota in response to her.

_Shit. She must have had this all wrong. Fuck._

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, moving onto her back to lie to face the ceiling, giving a deep sigh as her hands clasp on her stomach. She closes her eyes tightly in embarrassment, her face screwing up as she brings her hand to her forehead, rubbing there nervously.

He watches her, seeing all her reactions, still shocked at what had happened.

“Sorry. Just forget that ever happened. I got the wrong idea,” she says plainly, opening her eyes and looking to the ceiling again as her hand returns to join the other on her stomach clasping.

**What? Shit. No. That’s not what… He was just… fuck.**

“No,” he refutes firmly. The only articulation he can manage right now.

She turns her head to look at him, completely confused. _But he just? He didn’t even kiss her back?_

“No, Gerri. I… FUCK! I was just surprised,” he babbles, leaning up on his elbow to look at her, rubbing his face. “You didn’t get the wrong idea.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, unsure what to say, a ghost of a twitch on her lips.

“Can I?” he asks leaning in a little, watching her face turn to impassive. “Can I try again?” **He’s not going to move any closer until he gets approval.**

She smirks now, a good sign from his point of view.

“Hurry up, Roman,” she responds blandly, as he smiles and leans in finally to kiss her gently.

It is brief and relatively unimpressive, but she’s not backed down from a challenge before. He moves away from her lips, readjusting on the bed so that he’s leaning over her more comfortably and moves in for a second kiss as she unclasps her hands, bringing one up to his jaw, pulling him closer into her whilst she opens her mouth to him; an invitation for him to deepen the kiss. Their kiss becomes increasingly heated as she runs her tongue across his, listening to him rapidly breathing out of his nose whilst she expertly shows him the way, he picking up her cues perfectly and returning with fervour. His hand moves to touch her hip, sliding up to ghost against her breast and gliding just as quickly down to her thigh.

**It was better than he ever imagined. He doesn’t remember this feeling of wanting to explore someone so much. He’s never felt like this about anyone and it’s pretty overwhelming.**

_She’s surprised at how much she gets lost in it. She supposes she hadn’t expected much, but at the same time knew how much of a hidden treasure he could be so shouldn’t be so astounded._

He pulls away from her mouth to take a few gasps, her own breathing pretty ragged also as he presses his forehead against hers, their breath mingling, her noses brushing as she pulls him towards her for a couple more pecks before he begins devouring her again excitedly.

She feels how much more passionate he has this time, his erection pressed against her hip, as she brings her hand not pulling at his neck, around his shoulders to encourage him on top of her. His hand is pulling up the hem of her dress, sneaking under to caress her bare thigh, pulling it up at her knee to bend so that he can move his hips to nestle between her parting legs.

**He’s never felt his hard before at doing something so vanilla. What did that mean? That he was here kissing Gerri, things moving further, and he wasn’t desperate to back out. He should be backing out, that’s what he normally did. Like what if he disappointed her like he did the other girls. Grace, Tabitha, that one chick in Berlin, to name a few. This was Gerri. Gerri was older and more experienced. It would be an even bigger disappointment, an even bigger shame if he disappointed Gerri. He never did vanilla sex well. It had to be weird, and Gerri wouldn’t be up for weird. Shit. Fuck.**

_Jesus, she has missed this. It’s been a long time and holy shit it’s better doing this with someone, than a fucking vibrator, no matter how many times she had told herself she was fine with it in the past. Just the feeling of him surrounding her, of him wanting her, of him pressing her into the mattress is just fucking provocative._

He feels her hand moving from his shoulder, down his side and moving to his groin, trying to pull at the fastening there when he stops kissing her, pulls back looking down at her swollen lips, her darkened eyes staring back at him, as he feels her arousal radiating off of her.

“Fuck,” he groans, dunking his face into the pillow next to her head, over her shoulder.

_What the fuck? What happened?_

“Shit! Fuck! Sorry! I’m sorry!” He shouts as he pulls up off of her swiftly, moving to sit up on his side of the bed next to her. He places his legs in a basket, his head plunged into his hands as he groans out loud.

She lies there completely dishevelled, her skirt having ridden up to her hips, and her skin completely flushed from head to toe; moving up onto her elbows trying to figure out what was going on. She sees him cradling his head in his hands, and realises that there was problem that she should have anticipated.

She pulls the hem of her dress down to her knees, sitting up next to him, bringing a hand to his back and placing her chin on his shoulder as she takes in his panicked form.

_She should have expected this, after the rumours about him not having sex with his girlfriends; Tabitha confirming that in Tern Haven._

“Talk to me. What’s wrong?” She asks gently, wanting him to know she’s not angry.

**That settles him a little. Her gentle touch against him, her soft voice questioning him, but he can’t describe it.**

“I just… It’s not you... it’s just… I don’t know. I can’t. I don’t know if I can… do it… like a normo… I just… I thought I could this time… but… ugh…” He splurges, trailing off, groaning again back into the palms of his hands.

_She hesitates here, doesn’t really want to offer it._

“Uhm… do you want me to… you know… do the insult thing?” She asks reticently.

“No, no, Gerri,” he starts but she speaks over him.

“I would rather not, because of you know, what you said earlier but if it helps… I mean…” she trails off this time as he interrupts her.

“No, Gerri,” he says firmly, looking back at her. “That’s not what I want.”

**That’s not what this was right now. This wasn’t him jerking off to her insults, this was different to what he normally felt.**

He groans again, pissed off with the fact that he can’t figure his own fucked up mind out.

_She feels shit for him; wanting to help him figure it out but she’s not really sure how._

“Is this the thing that Tabitha was talking about at the Pierce dinner?” She asks hesitantly.

He grunts loudly again, embarrassed; the sound muffled into the hands still covering his face.

**He had forgotten about that.**

He simply nods into his hands, unable to make eye contact with her quite yet.

“Okay,” she nods thinking, “then tell me about it.”

“Tell you what?” He asks, pulling his hands away to look at her. She is quiet, her face impassive, waiting for him to open up so she can solve this conundrum.

**It’s not that he’s unwilling to open up to her, though he knows it’s embarrassing. If anyone could solve this shit, it was Gerri, but how is he supposed to tell her about something he doesn’t even understand himself.**

“Tell me about why you can’t or don’t or whatever. Tell me what goes through your head,” she finishes, resuming the rubbing of his back in encouragement.

“I don’t know…” he declares panicked.

**How can he explain to her, when he doesn’t even know himself why he can’t do it?**

“Well, first off, can you actually, you know? Have sex?” Her voice is soft, simply exploratory.

“Yes!” He shouts, protecting his ego, picking at the sheet near his foot. “I have had sex plenty of times!”

“Okay... So, you just don’t? Or it’s just sometimes? I know you can ejaculate considering our phone calls so it’s not like you’re physically incapable,” she reassures.

He pauses, not saying anything. **Afraid to look like an ass.**

“You know, you don’t have to talk about any of this Rome. You don’t need to do anything with me. I just want to help,” she smiles, continuing the rubbing of his back so he isn’t so defensive.

**He knew that. He trusts Gerri. He does want to do it. He does want to talk about it. He just… doesn’t know how.**

“It just happens sometimes. Like in certain circumstances,” he reveals quietly.

She nods, thinking about it, “has it always been that way?”

“Uhm… I don’t know. It just has to be… not vanilla. My first real vanilla encounter was when I was like 16. I had a few dabbles before that but it wasn’t the real deal. Just the usual hand job here, fingering there. But the girl was like super clingy and was like saying she loved me and shit, and I tried to ignore it, but it was just like cringy and weird, and made me feel awkward. Like, I knew she didn’t, but it was just like too emotional and I was like NOPE, so after I came I just got up and walked away. Never seen her again. Can’t even remember her name. Then like since then it was always just like whenever it was too like emotiony and it just made me feel like awkward when it was too fucking vanilla and romance and roses and bleugh. Made my skin crawl. Then throughout the years with girlfriends it just kind of became too much pressure when they expected me to be a normo,” he divulges rapidly, leaning back on his hands behind him, staring up at the ceiling.

“So, you didn’t care about the girl? The one you were talking about when you were 16?” Her mind racing, trying to solve the riddle that was Roman Roy. _Or at least get some kind of insight._

“Fuck, no,” he shouts, clicking his feet together in front of him. “She was like in love with me then, but of course who isn’t? Whenever I came home from school for the summer, she was all over me, but I just did it because it was a party and it’s what everyone else did. Didn’t really want to though,” he says shrugging his shoulders.

She hums, sitting silently, watching him as he picks at his pants now.

“Did you ever care about the girlfriends? The ones you tried to have sex with?” Her eyes straining as she tries to analyse his reaction.

“Care about them? Like as people? Like love? Or?” He asks, looking to her for confirmation.

She simply continues looking at him, allowing him to decide, or answer all of the above.

He huffs, trying to think about it. Trying to consider which to answer.

“Uhm… well there is a difference between girlfriends and women I tried to have sex with. The random girls I had sex with? I’m trying to remember because it’s been so long, but I didn’t care about them at all. I didn’t really go home with randoms after I realised it was always just a disappointment. It only kind of worked in a brothel when I was really young, where there was no pressure and they would do something kinky enough for me to ejaculate but I never had sex with them.”

He shrugs, then thinks back to her question as she listens intently, her eyes squinting as she thinks.

“But the girlfriends… I always thought it was love when I was with them. My therapist said it was like attachment though? Like I have this attachment issue because of my childhood. Might be Borderline? I just latched onto people who showed me interest because I wanted them to care about me. Like it didn’t matter who it was, and I usually didn’t even really like them as people… like they weren’t really my jam, but I just wanted someone there with me. Like someone to care for me? But I didn’t really care about their interests as people, I just cared about how they cared for me? Which isn’t love. So, like did I care about them at the time? Sure, to an extent. But like actually looove them? Like mutual in love relationship? Nah, that was bleugh… no. Then I realised they kind of sucked, and they didn’t care about me and were usually in it for the money. So, I would get rid of them easily,” he finishes, picking at the sheets again.

“You seemed close with Tabitha though? Before you broke up.” She ventures cautiously, maybe it was some kind of jealousy or because the girl actually did seem the only one she ever seen who got him.

“Tabs? We were like besties. Like real best friends. I do care about Tabitha but not like that. She was nice to me. Probably the closest next to you of people who actually wanted to try figure me out, but she also put me down sometimes when I was feeling shitty. And not in the way you do for sex, but like genuinely. I think she doubted that I was actually smart, in my own way. My therapist said it was probably just her own frustrations because she wasn’t getting what she needed from me, which I get. The difference in sex thing was ruining our friendship though because I was like ew no, and she was hypersexual so, you know. She deserved to be with a dude who could fuck her brains out, and I’m glad she has got that now but that wasn’t me. I care about Tabs but with the sex, it was like I understood like factually in my head that she was hot, but I wasn’t, like…” he pauses, rolling his hands in the air, looking for the word in the ceiling until she saves him.

“Attracted to her?” She suggests, throwing him a bone.

He nods, embarrassed again as he looks back down at his knees.

_That was probably the most he had ever given her as an insight into him. He honestly had so many conflicting feelings, it was no wonder he was all over the place. To her, he just seemed like someone who wanted to be loved and try to love in return with someone who understood him, and the fact that at his age, he hadn’t found someone to give him that, to be that solidity for him, makes her sad. His parents really did have a lot to answer for._

“Have you ever felt attraction for someone?” She asks him, genuinely curious.

“Yeah! Oh yeah! No one I could get though. Like uh… like Helen Mirren! Helen Mirren is a fucking siren,” he declares smiling, looking at her, but he’s serious.

She laughs out loud, “Helen Mirren?”

“Uh… yeah!” He returns as though it were obvious, “she’s a fuckin’ goddess. Like she is hot as shit and could 100% wreck me with any position she wanted to give me whilst I whimpered for more, but like also she seems like a sweet lady who would watch shitty tv with me,” he says smiling at her.

“Uhu,” she chuckles. “So, just Helen?”

“Nah, there were some others out with my attainability,” he says, scratching the back of his neck as he pauses. “Uh… you…” he reveals, his nose crinkling as he waits for her reaction.

“Well, I kind of suspected that,” she says plainly.

He looks at her shocked, his eyes widening, “huh?”

“It’s been a bit obvious, Rome. Though to be fair I thought it was more of an infatuation,” she smiles, letting him know it’s okay that he does. He rolls his eyes, looking back down to pick at the hem of his trousers.

“Why do you think that is? Why do you think you’re attracted to me and not all the other girls?” _It’s a risky question. That she knows. But she is curious. She wants to know she’s not just some mommy issue; not that she was sure she could stop the ship from hitting the iceberg at this point even if she wanted to._

“Why?” He looks to her incredulously, “First of all, I just picked the other girls because they were like generically classified as probably the kind of girl my dad and the whole world would approve of, not my jam. But secondly, you’re smokin’ hot, Gerri. You give me boners all over the place just by fuckin’ annihilating guys in a meeting and quirking your fucking eyebrow.”

He becomes quieter and more serious, ready to reveal what he never thought he would to her, “you’re beautiful, Gerri. You’re a nice person. You always give me the time of day, listen to what I have to say, invite my opinion. You’re the only person whose ever been kind to me. Who’s probably believed in me. And when I’m with you I feel safe and I trust you,” he says with his eyes stuck to the bed cover, afraid to look around to gauge her reaction. So, he doesn’t, just winces, and braces himself for the impact of what she’s going to say in response.

Little does he know, Gerri sits behind him, smiling at the sweetness of what he’s said, overwhelmed by the compliments and relieved that the answer wasn’t that she reminds him of the mother he probably always wanted and needed.

“So, how do you think that’s different than what your therapist said? About getting attached to people because they are nice to you. Why would you feel an attraction to me instead of the others you got attached to?” She is genuinely curious.

_It’s a question that she’s probably asked herself the most in relation to them. She doesn’t know if he’s just infatuated with her because he isn’t used to someone being nice to him. A mother replacement, who would pat his head when he was having a nightmare. She wants to believe it’s not that, but she isn’t sure._

“Because I truly like you and want to get to know you. I think you’re a genuinely good person, and the more I see of the outside of work Gerri, with each thing you reveal of yourself, like your crazy disco dancing, it just makes me want you more. I didn’t give a shit about the other girls, apart from Tabs. I give a shit about you,” he answers truthfully.

“Do you not think that will fade when this infatuation ends though?” She asks genuinely. _It would likely happen. She almost anticipates that he will get bored and move onto the next thing._

He looks around at her shocked, as though she were insane.

“Gerri, this hasn’t happened to me before. I’m not a fucking schoolboy who wants to fuck his teacher and then it blows over. I’ve felt this way since Japan. Like I always knew you were like corporate businesswoman hot, but like when I started to get to know you in Japan on a personal level, it’s when the attraction started. Then the way we could easily jibe back and forth, then you actually giving a shit about me, and me getting to know you more and more. The attraction just grew and grew. It’s not just fucking attraction, Gerri. I’m ready to fight to the death for you over my dad potentially sacrificing you. I would just let it fucking happen if I didn’t care. You are the only person who has ever got me, including with the phone fucking sex thing. No one has ever been able to do that with me. And more than anything else Gerri, I want to take care of you in return. I want to protect you, comfort you, be there for you, spend monotonous time with you. I have never wanted to do that for a single person before and quite honestly, it scares me because I’m afraid I will fuck that up. So, if you don’t think that’s an indication of this not being a fucking infatuation then I don’t know what to tell you. I’m sorry if it embarrasses you or it’s too much, but it’s true,” he says looking at her as he says it this time, his chest heaving as he finishes his argument passionately.

Her face kind and smiling in return to him.

**He’s afraid of what she’s going to say. He should be glad she’s not already letting him down or kicking him out after that declaration, but he wishes she would just speak.**

_She’s flattered by his declaration, it makes her tingle deep within her, her heart surging at the honesty and rawness of what he has revealed, but it hurts as well. She might not be here tonight or tomorrow. The fact that he feels this way for her now, when she might not be here is too much to handle. She can’t consider all this just now; the reality of what she might need to leave behind could make it too hard. So, she focuses on the task at hand – figuring out Roman Roy._

“All right. Did you ever consider that maybe you just needed to have feelings before you felt attracted to someone then?” She asks, waiting for his reaction.

**Wait, what? That was her response to a declaration of his feelings for her.**

“Uhm… no?” He pulls a face, confused. “Like normo attraction is usually, you’re hot, I want to stick my dick in you. Wham, bam, thank you ma’am. Oh, and you’re kind of cool so like relationship? That’s usually how it goes.”

She shakes her head, smiling. “Who the fuck taught you about relationships?”

“Who the fuck do you think?” He throws his hands up, his eyes bulging.

She rolls her eyes, “Rome, that’s not how it usually goes. That’s how it goes when you rely your relationships on how things look and being superficial, instead of actually having a fucking connection with someone. Most successful relationships start with people liking each other first, and their attraction following. Some people can only feel attraction when they like someone. Like if they are funny or have a connection or whatever. I could be wrong, but it sounds like you just need to feel that connection first.” She finishes shrugging.

“Then what about Tabs?” He asks her, curiously.

**He had never really thought about this. What the fuck was he even paying his therapist for?**

“I don’t know. Maybe you didn’t have a connection in that way? Maybe you were just really good friends and there was no lasting connection. Or maybe she wasn’t physically your type? Or maybe there was something about her, that stopped you from gaining that attraction? It happens. You don’t just become attracted to everyone you like as well. It doesn’t work that way. It just happens,” she finishes, shrugging her shoulders.

_When the fuck did she become a therapist? She doesn’t know anything. This is all just speculation. Even she’s shocked by this potential insight on him, but she knew relationships; had seen so many of them disintegrate and few of them actually survive and thrive. She knew superficial relationships and she doesn’t know why she would be shocked that Roman would learn about that from his father who had superficial ones his whole life, lucking out with Marcia when they built a bond after the physical part was over. He would need to ask his therapist if it was viable or get a new fucking therapist maybe._

“Yeah, that makes sense,” he nods, attempting to process it.

**He begins going through the girls he had been with before and realising he didn’t really have anything in common with any of them.**

She watches him thinking, considering how to use what they might have discovered to figure out what’s happening here.

“When it comes to sex then, what happens? Like when it goes wrong?” She asks him simply, trying to normalise this as much as possible though she can without a doubt say, this is up there with oddest conversations she has ever had.

“Uhm… usually I’m guilted into it because they complain I don’t have sex with them enough or at all. So, I try even if I’m not feeling it and then it feels wrong and comes to nothing,” he answers honestly, shrugging as though that were normal.

**She’s probably the only person he feels he can be honest with and it makes him feel so secure.**

“Roman, do you even want to have sex with me? Because I don’t want you to feel like that with me,” she asks plainly, no anger in her voice at all. Merely guilt that she could be coming across the same as the others.

“No! No, of course I do. I genuinely do. You’re really one of the only people I actually have felt like I wanted to do it with,” he tells her, looking at her seriously.

“Apart from Helen Mirren,” she jests, a sly grin on her lips as she leans back on her hands, her head lolling to the side.

“Yeah, but only when she’s dressed as the Queen,” he retorts quickly.

She chuckles at that, her eyes wide.

“I’m kidding! I’m kidding! Though I still would if she were. But yeah… it seems I can only perform when it’s like… weird? And with you, it was like not even weird at all but it like feels right? But a different kind of right? Not vanilla? Even though it was vanilla? But then I started panicking because I’ve only ever been able to do it when it’s weird, but I don’t want to let you down? I’m so used to it being weird and I think I might need it to be weird to go the full way? But yeah, it’s fucked up. I don’t know,” he finishes, unsure if any of that fucking made any sense at all to her.

However, when he looks to see if it has, she’s laughing. He is taken aback by that.

**He never thought Gerri would laugh at his fucked-up brain. She was usually the one to tell him it was okay, or unjumble it with him but here she was laughing at him? Maybe he shouldn’t have trusted her.**

He can feel his anger rising as little, his defensiveness increasing.

“You don’t need to laugh at me, Gerri! I know I’m fucked up!” He starts shouting offended; however, she stops laughing though she still smiles, placing a hand on his arm.

‘No, Rome. I’m not laughing at you. Have you ever considered that this is weird? Both of us together is weird. The fact that I am twenty years older than you and we are in this position is weird. The fact that you want to fuck your dads General Council is weird. The fact I want to fuck my boss’s son is weird. Like can you imagine if anyone knew what we were doing here, you know that all of them would find it weird. You being attracted to a woman my age is weird. Us together is literally a category on popular porn websites, it’s that unusual. And the insulting phone calls into an orgasm were definitely weird. If it’s weird but not weird you want, it seems that you got your wish…” she continues as she sees his eyes watching her, intently darkening as they do when she insults him into an orgasm, his breath hitching.

**She was right. They were weird, just the right amount of weird for it to feel right. And it did feel right. They had always felt right.**

“…. because what is even weirder is that it doesn’t even feel weird at all when it should. That it’s actually so right. Rockstar and the Molewoman. It’s weird that we seem to fit so well when we shouldn’t. It’s weird that I want it, too. That I want this, too. That I want you, too,” she smiles, her grin covering her face as she strokes his arm.

**Fuck off. She wants him? She actually wants him?**

“You do?” He asks, his pitch increasing, his eyebrows raised.

“Yeah. Why do you think you’re here?” She asks him breathlessly, smiling, stroking her arm seductively.

“You want me, too?” He asks her still shocked, gesturing his hands between them for clarification.

“Yeah,” she laughs exasperated, rolling her eyes.

He plunges forward and kisses her again, his tongue instantly penetrating her mouth, as his hand makes its way to her waist, pushing her back onto the bed. She responds vigorously, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as she closes her eyes, losing herself in the passion he is pouring into her as his hands roam down her sides, clutching at her dress as hers roam across his back.

Their kisses rise in intensity as they become more desperate for some kind of step past this stage, however, he doesn’t know the move to make.

**He’s new to this.**

He pulls back from kissing her, his head pressed to her forehead again as he breathes raggedly, opening his eyes and looking at her desperately.

_She senses what he needs. Has always been the one to show him the way and be patient with him._

“Why don’t you let me take the lead? And if you feel uncomfortable, we can stop,” she suggests, stroking his face as she looks up at him.

He nods vigorously, so glad that she has suggested it.

**Maybe Gerri taking the lead would be a lesson for him and take the pressure off.**

She pushes against his chest, encouraging him to get off of her, which he follows as she sits up whilst he hovers next to her awaiting instruction.

“Get your t-shirt and pants off and lie down on your back,” she instructs, whilst she hikes the skirt of her dress up, grasping her underwear and sliding it down her legs before discarding it onto the floor. She moves up onto her knees, reaching for the zipper at the back of her neck, pulling it down as she watches him quickly whip his t-shirt off, and undo his pant fastenings, wriggling them down his legs.

Her dress is loose around her as she sees him lying back against the pillow she was pressed against a moment ago. She smiles at him as he lies there, watching her, looking nervous as though it were his first time.

_Maybe in a way it was._

“Are you sure you want to do this?” She asks him gently.

“Yeah,” he answers, reaching out and stroking her forearm.

“All right,” she breathes, lifting her skirt high so that she can straddle his hips, sitting firmly on top of him and feeling his hard-on through the thin fabric of his underwear as it presses against her. She smiles again, leaning down to kiss him lovingly as his hands come up to her face, pushing into her hair as it surrounds his face and then at the back of her neck, whilst she explores his mouth, leaning her hands against the pillow on either side of his head.

When she sits back up, she runs her hands across his chest, her nails scraping lightly as he settles his hands on her hips which are slowly gyrating against him.

“Just because it was shit in the past, doesn’t mean it’s going to be now. Just relax and focus on feeling all the pleasure and sensations just now okay? Just like you do when you listen to my voice, yeah? Trust me,” she whispers seductively, as she licks at upper lip.

**How the fuck was this different? How does her seductive voice feel so different to when Tabitha tried to sound sexy. He doesn’t know but he doesn’t want it to stop. She was right, this was weird but it was so fucking right.**

He watches her as she continues circling her hips whilst she grasps the waist of her dress, pulling it up over her head, as he helps her lift it’s skirt, the thing becoming a fucking tent until he finally gets her out from under it, taking it off her and throwing it to the floor.

He simply looks at her newly exposed flesh whilst she reaches behind her to unclasp the bra. **He can’t help but notice the difference between the body before him and all the others he has seen in the past. He’s seen plenty of older women’s bodies in porn, but this is different. He finds it more attractive, but he knows that’s because it belongs to Gerri. Just seeing the little freckles on her chest where she had caught the sun, the light tan lines across her chest and arms, her size of her chest now it is clearly before him, the way her hips curve away from her waist. He’s never appreciated art, but he imagines those who do appreciate it as he does her. He never thought this way when he saw the naked flesh of the other girls, never had any kind of reaction. When he saw the others, he felt as though he were looking at a bean bag, or a couch. It was like ok, cool. Very nice. But seeing her before him now, her bra now removed, as she sits in front of him, completely naked? Fuck Helen Mirren, he doesn’t think he’s seen anything so beautiful. Because it’s her.**

She smiles as she watches him watching her, moving her hands back to his chest and running them across as she traces his collar bones.

_She should feel self-conscious, but she knows she’s in good shape for someone her age. She knows that he has been with other girls, prettier girls, but that clearly didn’t work for him, and seeing the fascination in his eyes as he roams across her, his hardening dick pressed against her core; she has all the assurance she needs._

He looks up to her, watching her heated gaze, her hair pooling around her face as she leans down again, pressing her bare chest to his as she claims his mouth again, her hand grasping his jaw as she devours him, whilst his push her hair away. Once her hair is out of his face, he runs his hands down her neck, across her shoulders, and down her bare back, grazing the side of her bust and down her sides as he begins to buck his hips up against her, wanting more as he feels his arousal powering up within him.

She moans loudly into his mouth as she feels him pushing up against her, taunting her clit, her inner walls clenching as she feels her juices pooling, his trailing fingers causing her body to writhe as he awakens every nerve within her.

**He doesn’t think he’s heard anything more erotic than Gerri moaning into his mouth.**

His hands settle on her hips, to push her down onto him harder to create more friction against him. He feels like he’s going to burst and wants to make sure he doesn’t end early before she has even got anything out of this.

**He feels he is merely a humble servant, here to deliver pleasure to her.**

He pulls back from her mouth, trailing his kisses against her jawline and down to her pulse point as she breathes rapidly whilst her hips move harder against him, her bust squeezing against his chest.

“Gerri, I don’t think I’m gonna last much longer,” he grounds against her neck, his teeth scratching against her.

She moves to sit up, grasping his shoulders so that he moves up with her, sitting erect as he feels her moving her hand to his one settled on her hip, grasping it, and directing it between them to push against her core. She lets out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding in when he pushes his fingers against her clitoris.

**He doesn’t need any direction for this.**

He knows how this part works as he begins pressing his fingers against her, rotating hard as she gasps louder, throwing her head back as she clutches his shoulders, moving her hips in rhythm with his movement against her.

“Rome,” she breathes out, digging her nails harder into his shoulders.

**Fuck. Why the fuck was that so hot? He wants to hear his name like that all day every day.**

He can feel his dick becoming harder, just watching her getting off, just watching the passion within her.

Suddenly, she can’t take it anymore, her head snapping down to look into his eyes.

“Are you ready?” She breathes out, still grinding against his fingers, as she pulls at his neck, kissing him firmly before pulling back immediately.

He nods vigorously, “yeah.” Stealing one more peck against her swollen lips.

She moves her hand back down between them, swotting his hand away from her centre as she pulls down his underwear, just enough to release him as she grabs a hold of him firmly. He groans loudly, the feeling of her silky palm against him, beginning to rub along his length, driving him wild. His head falls to her shoulder, his eyes closing as he tries not to explode all over her.

“Gerri, please,” he pleads pathetically as he looks back up to her eyes.

She leans down and kisses him intensely, whilst directing him below her as she moves above him, sinking slowly onto him.

They both moan into each other’s mouths as he releases her lips first; pressing his forehead to hers.

“Fuck,” he whispers, as his eyes roll into the back of his head, hers watching his pleasure intently.

She experimentally rises and falls back onto him, her head rolling back in pleasure.

“Good GOD!” She shouts, rising and falling again, as his attention falls back to her, encouraging her hips to continue their rhythm as he bucks up into her every time, she grinds back down onto him.

Their breathing rate increases as their pace begins increasing, her moans becoming more frequent as he hits that spot just within her.

“Oh shit, Rome! Fuck! Yes!,” she whispers frantically, her release coming closer and closer.

“Fuck, Gerri,” he pants, continuing to meet her as well as he can in this awkward angle where he can’t get any leverage. He becomes frustrated that he can’t have the power he wants to drive her even crazier.

“Wait, get up and lie down,” he declares frantically, as he taps her thigh, pushing her hips up and off of him, encouraging her to move to the side.

“What?” She asks incredulously, following his lead and lies on the side of her thigh, sitting backwards on the bed as he bounces up onto his knees, kissing her roughly as he pushes her onto her back, whilst she grasps behind his neck, pulling him tighter into her as their tongues war.

He moves his hand between them, rubbing against her clit again for a second, moving his hand around her opening to ensure she is still ready enough for him, eliciting a strangled moan from her into his mouth, reinvigorating her attack in his mouth.

He grasps his dick and comes back home, pushing into her as she moans into his mouth, only gasping air against him. He begins a rapid pace, pounding into her, as he lifts her thigh around his hip, her other following on its own accord; pushing under her ass to get the right angle so he can hit that spot he knows he’s supposed to within her.

“Just there, Rome. Keep going,” she shouts, on the edge of her release, as she writhes underneath him, reaching her arm up above her head to attempt to grasp at anything at the bottom of the bed. _Just a few more seconds and it would all be over._

“Keep talking, Gerri. So, fucking hot. Fuck,” he pants into her neck, licking and biting as his release comes closer and closer, frantically devouring her, whilst he moves his hand up over her head, threading his fingers through hers and pushing it deeper into the bed as his arm mirrors hers.

“Oh, Rome,” she gasps, her head spinning as she tries to focus enough to speak, her threaded hand squeezing tightly, as she clings her other onto his back. “Don’t stop. You’re brilliant. Just brilliant,” she moans, his rhythm increases with that, his moans coming in pants.

“Harder, honey. Fuck,” she continues whispering, as her eyes squeeze shut.

He feels her clenching around him, her screams coming higher as her orgasm hits. He moves his mouth to cover hers, so everyone in the yacht doesn’t hear; continuing his movements within her as his release begins, spilling inside her. His rhythm becomes more ragged, his mouth trailing down her face as she continues clenching around him, bucking hard against him with each spasm.

“Fuck, Gerri,” he whispers, his mouth trailing lazily back to hers as he feels his release ending, the bucking calmer, her clenches around him having ceased. She explores his mouth softly, her caresses of his back light, his hand trailing up her side as his other lets go of her hand, pushing her hair away from her head running his fingers through the soft strands, whilst she pets the back of his neck. He kisses her back slowly, his eyes closed as his heart begins slowing down.

**If that’s what normo sex is, he’s fucking here for it.**


	8. Strategising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts of Roman in bold.  
> Thoughts of Gerri in italics

He finally ends the intense kiss, donning a few more pecks before pulling himself out of her and rolling onto the bed, lying on his back as he fixes his underwear back over his crotch, closing his eyes and taking in what has just happened.

He can feel her breathing deeply next to him, as she bends her knees, throwing her arm across her forehead.

“Well, how did that feel?” She asks him soothingly, turning her head to look at him.

“Pretty great. Nothing like before. Once I was in it, I didn’t even think about it anymore,” he answers, opening his eyes and turning to look at her.

She is smiling widely, glad that she had taken the plunge; glad that he had had one good experience with sex at least.

_If this was the last time for a while, at least she went out with a bang._

“Good,” she declares, sitting up and sliding off the bed as she walks towards the bathroom. He watches her, rolling onto his stomach as her naked form walks across to the other side of the room away from him.

 **Another part of Gerri that’s new to his eye, and just as beautiful as the rest of her. Burning into his mind so he never forgets it; something to take away if this never happens again**.

She cleans up quickly, putting on her robe that was on the back of the bathroom door, closing it over and tying it as she re-enters the room whilst he lies on his front facing her with his eyes closed. She walks over to the bed, perching on its edge next to his head, crossing her legs. She settles her hand on his head, running her hand through his hair, smiling, as he automatically brings an arm around her backside, settling on the hip opposite him; his other hand stroking her thigh whilst his eyes shutting contentedly once he has found her.

She looks up and around at the room, still stroking his hair, eying the open laptop that she never had the patience to start up properly earlier.

_She was going to have to start thinking about that now. Preparing. Though she doesn’t feel as panicked as she was earlier. At least having done this, she can say she did something for herself before it all went to shit. She has something to remember that was good._

He looks up at her, watching her profile, seeing her thinking intensely, biting her bottom lip, squinting her eyes, as she scratches at his scalp.

**He hopes she doesn’t regret it. He hadn’t asked her in response how she found it. He doesn’t think he could bare it if she regretted it, even if they never did it again. She seemed to enjoy it at the time. He had thought he did a good job. But he can’t keep his mouth shut. He needs to know either way. He didn’t want to walk around thinking it was something it wasn’t.**

“Are you having regrets?” He ventures, looking up at her worried, trailing his fingers over the stitching of her robe.

That snaps her out of her thought process, looking down at him gently, trying to process what he asked.

“About what? About that?” She asks with a frown, gesturing her head to the bed, her hand landing on his that is caressing her knee, her other hand stilled at the nape of his neck.

He nods, unable to speak; too worried of her response.

“No, honey. No. I enjoyed it. You did a great job. And you took the lead as well at the end, following your instincts with a great pay off, so you didn’t need me to take control the whole time. I’m proud of you for having the courage,” she finishes, smiling down at him as her hand travels from his neck to his cheekbone, stroking her thumb there. He smiles back, taking a deep breath as the relief of not being a big fucking disappointment hits him.

**He wants to ask something else, but he’s afraid of that answer too.**

“Then are you annoyed at me because I said all the stuff about you? Like why I was attracted to you? Are you weirded out?” He asks shyly, turning his face into her palm and squeezing her hip.

“Do I seem annoyed?” She asks him tauntingly, smiling.

_After what they just did and what she told him, it amazes her how he still has doubt. But she supposes he’s never done this before._

“No, but you didn’t really say anything when I splurged it all out. You just kind of changed the subject,” he answers truthfully, looking at her apprehensively.

She sighs deeply, taking in his worried expression, then looking up into the room.

_She didn’t want to face this just now, but she knew that he needed that reassurance before she left. And he deserved to know the truth of how she felt, of what she hardly admitted to herself. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to get the chance to say it out loud after dinner. It was better to do it in a situation like this and get the closure they both likely needed._

“No, I’m not angry. I told you last night, Rome. I care about you,” she reassures softly, looking down to him, resuming the stroking of his hair. “I want to help you, want to be there for you. I told you just there that I want you and I want this, and I think I just proved that. It feels right. We seem to fit so well. We have this connection that I can’t explain nor define and honestly, I haven’t even really allowed myself to explore in my own head,” she looks up, spotting the waves flowing through a crack in the drapes.

She smiles widely, looking down at him, his eyes still concerned.

 **He senses a but. A but is coming. And he feels like he’s about to get his heart broken**.

She continues stroking his hair; her face soft as she looks at him, her voice almost a whisper.

“And you were right about us jibing back and forth with each other. It feels great. You’re a lot of fun. I feel sometimes like you’re one of the only people who makes me genuinely smile or laugh. And I’m not shy to admit that I have missed having someone around since Baird died and I’m glad it’s been you. For months building up that trust with you in work and outside of work, and the flirtation and care between us. And especially in the last few days with all this shit going on; even then you’ve managed to make me laugh and smile. So, if it all goes to shit after this – I’m glad we did this. I’m glad we had this moment. But right now, Rome, I can’t talk about us progressing from whatever this is; not when I don’t know what tomorrow looks like. Not when I don’t know if there will ever be an opportunity for us progress beyond this. The reality is that if I’m chosen, I’m either going to be bombed out of the company or even jailed. So, knowing what could have been with you, and no longer can be, would just be too much to bear. Do you understand that?” She looks down to him worried, hoping that she has articulated enough that it’s just too hurtful right now when nothing is certain.

He nods slowly, staring into the corner of the room as he leans his chin into his upper arm.

“But would you… would you have wanted to explore this?” He almost whispers.

_There was no use being shy now. She wanted to always be honest with him._

“Yeah, I would have,” she confirms firmly, watching his face lighten.

**He can’t deny it hurts. He can’t deny that he feels it unfair. In this almost forty years of existence, he feels like he’s finally found the person who gets him, and it could be ripped away. What’s even worse is that it’s his own father that could be the own to do it. He can’t help feeling like he is in some Shakespearian tragedy when he considers the players and the backstabbing that goes on. But he understands. He understands it’s not her fault. He understands that she can’t allow herself to dream. He understands it’s just the circumstance they are in. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. He needs to savour right now if he can never have it again. He needs to make sure she’s not the one chosen.**

They sit silently, as they process what could have been. She bends down, pressing her lips to the top of his head.

“In the unlikelihood I’m not chosen, and you saved my ass by defending me, we can revisit this. I promise that,” she pledges softly into his hair, sitting back up to see his reaction.

He smiles and looks up to her, letting go of her hip and thigh, pressing his hands onto the bed and reaching up to kiss her soundly. She smiles into the kiss, closing her eyes as she holds his jaw softly, pouring all of her emotion into it as he does also.

He pulls away smiling and pounces up onto his knees.

“Then we need to get to work on how not to get you chosen then,” he declares solidly, getting off of the bed and walking towards the bathroom, whilst she watches him smirking. 

“So, what’s the plan, Molewoman?” He shouts over his shoulder as he walks into the bathroom to pee.

She gets up slowly, chuckling at his reference, pushing her hair back from his face, walking to the bedside table to put on her glasses, then to the drawer to retract her USB stick from the inside of her bra. She moves over to her laptop, sitting at the desk, pushing the USB into the side. She inputs the password into the home screen as she hears the toilet flush, silently waiting for his return.

She turns around to look at him as he walks back into the room towards her to look at what’s on her laptop screen.

“I don’t know if you can be involved, Rome,” she reveals to him kindly, her lips pouting as she thinks it through.

He sighs deeply, his face grimacing, as he rubs his hand against his forehead.

“Don’t do this to me, Gerri. Don’t keep me in the dark like my dad does,” he asks her pleadingly with some bite.

“I’m not, Rome. I will tell you what I plan on doing but I just don’t think you can have an active role in it,” she tells him calmly, turning back to her laptop and pulling up the USB folder, clicking on the file.

“Okay, well why don’t you let me be the judge of that,” he suggests firmly, his eyebrows rising.

She turns back around to look at him, wishing to make eye contact so she can gauge his response when she tells him the plan.

“If I’m chosen and your father wants me to be the one, I’m going to remind him carefully and subtly that I have a long memory of the dodgy dealings that have happened in this firm,” she begins, watching as he nods slowly.

“Okay…” he acknowledges, walking over to the sofa to sit down on it as she follows his movements with her eyes, twisting in her chair.

“However, if he still makes me the scapegoat, I’m going to have to flip. I’m going to let him know explicitly that I will flip if he doesn’t change his mind. I have a whole document of all of the buried bodies and dodgy dealings, some of the evidence I have at hand which I have collected through the years as an escape plan for a situation like this. At best, he will change his mind and I will be out on my ass from Waystar quietly. At worst, he will take the threat badly and keep me as the scapegoat, meaning I will be out on my ass, facing a lengthy, egregious legal battle against Waystar, criminal charges for all of it, and scathing counter attack press planted by your dad, ruining my reputation completely. Even if I survive the legal battles financially and avoid imprisonment, I will never work again at the level I have again. I will probably need to disappear where no one knows me to work again if I want to,” she finishes with a sigh, watching as his mouth hangs open, his eyes having become progressively larger as the realisation of her words hit him.

“Shiiiiiit,” is all he can manage, his voice rising as he draws the word out.

“This is why you can’t have an active role in this. I know you love your dad, your family, and you’re the future of that company, Rome. You could really do it and become CEO. I’m not going to ask you to take my side. I know you need to choose them, and I want you to for your own sake. I would never in a million years tell anyone else about this, but I trust you and know you wouldn’t say anything. I hope I’m right in that assumption?” She asks him worriedly.

“Of course, I wouldn’t, Gerri. Fuck,” he says annoyed, standing up as he moves around the room.

“I know,” she responds gently backtracking, “I’m just nervous. I haven’t trusted anything like this with anyone other than Baird before.”

He walks around the room, his face scrunched up as he quietly thinks of everything she has told him. Trying to work out how he could help or make it better.

“Do you think he would respond to just the light pressure? Like just you reminding him gently that you know where the bodies are buried?” He asks genuinely, completely unsure how his dad would react. **He was never able to read his dad.**

“I don’t know. You heard him at breakfast with the no one is more loyal than Gerri. I don’t think he has any clue that I could be a potential flip risk so wouldn’t believe I would actually do it,” she answers, following his movements as she bites the inside of her cheek.

“So maybe light pressure wouldn’t send the message then?”

“I don’t know, Rome. Your dad has been harder and harder to read since the heart attack. His behaviour is erratic at the best of times,” she adds worriedly, knowing that even her careful analysis wouldn’t give an accurate prediction of Logan like it would have in the past. He continues moving, going to the drapes and opening them to let some light in.

“So, say he still chooses you after the gentle pressure and you hit him with the hard facts of what you have. What do you think he would do then?”

“I’m not sure. I think he knows I’m intelligent and could run rings around his lawyers if they tried to take me on. It’s why I’ve been with him so many years, especially being a woman. He knows I’m good at my job and I’m calculated, so he knows that there is a chance I could win and have tricks up my sleeve. So, that’s on my side for him just choosing someone else. But he doesn’t like threats so, he could go in the opposite direction and fuck me and my mother. He could fly off the handle,” she finishes, shrugging at him as he stands a few feet in front of her in the middle of the room.

“Fuck, okay,” he acknowledges quietly, putting his hands on his waist. “I want to be there then… when you tell him,” he tells her, nodding to himself.

“Rome…” she begins warningly.

“No! He’s a loose cannon just like you said. What if he tries to throw something, or hit you, or something completely fucked up!” He raises his voice, angry that he even needs to explain this.

“He’s not that stupid. He knows he would get sued immediately,” she states calmly, leaning her elbow onto the table next to her to prop her head up in her hand.

“He’s all over the place, Gerri. He fucking hit me. You don’t know what’s going through his fucking head. I should be there just in case,” he shouts frustrated, throwing his hands over his head as he turns around, wandering again.

“Rome, even the suggestion that you know anything about this would end your future with your family and with Waystar. You would be out on your ass alongside me,” she stresses as she watches him.

“Would that be so bad?” He asks uncertainly, looking up at her, holding his hands in the air

“Rome, you don’t understand the magnitude of this. At best, both of us would be quietly shunned from Waystar. You never see your family again, no career, just a reputation, legal battle, and criminal charges,” she illustrates, becoming exasperated.

“I don’t see the downside,’ he mumbles, looking down at his feet now as he watches them press into the carpeting.

“What do you think is going to happen, Rome? That we’re just gonna beat this and run off into the sunset. Even if we did beat it together, we don’t even know what this is yet between us. It could crash and burn within a year and then you don’t have a family, a job, the money you’ve always been accustomed to. At worst, you and I would become the scapegoats of Royco. The press. The legal battles. The potential jailtime. It’s not going to be a good fucking time for me, never mind you additionally if you get involved when there is no need for you to,” she points out, her voice becoming progressively heated as she explains it all to him.

“I know that, Gerri. But you can’t ask me not to try and protect you. I can’t do that. I just can’t. You’re the only one whose ever been there for me. I’m going to use whatever influence I have to give that back,” he directs to her firmly, as he looks up into her eyes challenginly.

He starts walking around the room again silently, trying to figure out how he can make a difference.

“How about this,” he starts, moving to sit on the sofa again, his hands clasped in front of him as he leans his elbows on his knees, looking at her. She turns in her chair again, placing her arm over the top of the back and jutting her chin into her arm, giving him her full attention.

“Say you’re chosen at dinner. You go straight to your room and you get your shit together. You make sure your bags are packed and you’re ready to go before we get up there. Fuck knows how dad will react and you might need a quick escape. You get your documents or whatever the fuck you plan on handing to him. I assume you don’t have everything in the document though. I assume you have just enough to show him he’s fucked with a promise of more, so you have even more up your sleeve if this becomes a thing?” He asks expectantly, looking at her with raised eyebrows, waiting for her response.

“Yeah, of course,” she shrugs agreeably.

“So, you go get your document, whilst I go speak to my dad. I give it one last shot and try and convince him that you don’t work, and I think he’s made the wrong choice. That you’re not a big enough target whilst Tom and the rest of the fuckwits would be. We see if he changes his mind. You come up with your shit, and if he has changed his mind, I give you some kind of signal so you can call off the dogs. If not, I give you nothing. You let him speak, see if he gives you a get out of jail free card. But if he insists on going ahead with you, then you’ve just walked into a conversation I’m having with my dear old dad and you didn’t know I would be there, but you’re not willing to wait for me to leave before you say what you have to say. Meaning I get to stay as a witness and help sway him to change his mind. We double team him without him even knowing,” he suggests, his face serious, lying against the back of the sofa, bringing his hands up behind his head.

“I don’t know, Rome. I can see what you’re trying to do, but I don’t want to put you in the firing line,” she lifts her head, propping it up with her hand as she looks at him sadly.

“Ugh, fuck Gerri,” he shouts, flying forward. “I don’t care what you say. If you’re named, I’m going to see him after dinner to try and fight for you. I’m a better fucking scapegoat than you,” he continues as he throws his arms in the air, completely frustrated.

“No, you’re not Roman. Because I have a better defence. I could turn it on many different people in a legal battle because I was there, and I know what happened and have the evidence to prove it. I can argue that Waystar are using me as a scapegoat. They have literally destroyed all of their evidence, so I can maybe try and show it was nothing to do with me. You don’t have the build-up of evidence I have. They could argue something stupid with you and you have zero defence. Then I also have the magnitude of things I have witnessed through the years that I could potentially take a plea deal if I gave all that up,” she explains plainly, moving her hands around as she explains the logistics of the potential plan.

“Ugh!” He shouts, throwing himself back into the couch again. “Why the fuck does this need to be so fucking hard? Why can’t he just choose the actual fuck ups of the company who aren’t even a loss?” He blurts out again, pouting, as she watches him, pursing her lips.

“Maybe I need to go put some feelers out there in his head before he announces. Plant the seed and fight for it to be Tom. I could make out I got feelers from you that you might flip?” He suggests, shrugging nonchalantly.

Her eyes bulge at that.

“Fuck no! No way! You don’t show your hand until it’s absolutely necessary! What if he was always going to choose Tom and that’s my job fucked because he thinks I’m disloyal. Or changes it to be me because he’s fucked off that I was ready to betray him. Fuck no! We say nothing about that!” She declares firmly, the idea not even up for question.

“Fuck,” he groans, leaning forward again, and running his hands through his hair as he hunches over. “Why do you even want this job? It’s literally the fucking worst. I don’t have a fucking choice, but you could walk away. You could retire, live on a fucking beach, reading a book, sipping on a martini, planning world domination, running a kinky mature lady sex circle, and actually enjoying your life.”

She looks sad, perching her head in her hand again as she leans her arms on the back of her chair. “I don’t know. I asked Frank the same thing when he came back. But the truth is, it’s exciting. It’s hard work but it’s a rush when you land the deals, solve the problems, get close to complete destruction, save the company from ruin, insult the boss’s son into an orgasm every other day,” she quips, with a wry smile.

He snorts, his eyes sparkling as he watches her.

“It’s addictive. An adrenaline rush. I would miss it if I was forced out before I was ready. I’m sure at some point I will be ready to walk away, but not yet. I’m not ready yet,” she finishes quietly, her lips inverted.

He sighs deeply, “I get it.”

He is silent for a moment, watching her as she looks progressively tired.

**He needs to perk her back up. He’s not the one facing this, she is.**

“Okay, Molewoman,” he says slapping his thighs and standing up to move over to her. “How about you show me this document so I can maybe find out what sordid deeds Karl has really been up to,” he jokes seriously as she spins around on her chair to face her laptop, touching the pad to brighten up the screen. He leans down behind her, lingering over her shoulder whilst she begins talking through what’s on it.

\---

She notices the time at 4.37pm as they reach the end of the document, realising that dinner was in less than an hour and they both still had to get ready.

He had pulled up a chair behind her, was leaning his chin on her shoulder as she had pointed at the screen, quickly trying to run through the biggest scandals of Waystar that she had witnessed and also the ones she had nothing to do with. She had shown him the lists of the ones that Baird had been involved with, before her time and long before she had any influence. He comments every now and then, shocked at most of them, not so shocked at others.

She turns her head around to look at him as he lifts his head from her shoulder.

“So, what do you think?” She asks him nervously.

“I think you have a lot there for my dad to worry about. It would be a fucking disaster for him if any of that got out,” he answers honestly, staring at the screen. “And you have evidence for all of this?”

“Yeah, most of it. Baird had the evidence from his shit which is hidden away. But for the things I don’t have records for, I know who would have witnesses it and can be called upon,” she shrugs, looking back at the screen.

“Yeah. I think he’s fucked,” he says bluntly, putting his hand up to his mouth. “Fuck being on the wrong side of you,” he continues, lying back in his chair and stretching his legs out.

“I honestly wish I didn’t have to do any of this, but I’m glad I’ve been smart enough to have this back up plan. It might be what saves me,” she comments, scrolling the document back up and saving the few changes she has administered before ejecting the USB and rising from her chair to hide it back in the bra in her underwear drawer.

“I’m not sure how he will take that to be honest. He will know he’s fucked, it’s just whether he’s willing to admit defeat and not be stubborn,” he reasons, taking a deep breath and staring off into the distance.

She hums in agreement as she walks over to the laptop, reaching down to close it down, then closing it over and collecting it so that she can put it back in the safe.

“We should probably start getting ready for dinner, it’s in less than an hour and I need to get changed and pack my shit up,” she comments, walking over to the safe, placing the laptop in and keying in the code to lock it.

“Yeah,” he agrees, standing to collect the t-shirt he had discarded earlier, whilst she bends down to collect his pants, moving the inside out trouser legs so they are the right way around before handing them to him. She moves to the bedside table, picking up his phone as he puts his pants on. She looks over to him, handing out his phone to him as he stands there completely ready; nothing really indicating everything that had happened in here all day. He looks up to her as he takes the phone, placing it in his pocket and notices the small sad smile on her lips as she crosses her arms over in front of her.

**It had been a rollercoaster of a day. And not a shitty boring one in their parks. A real good thrill seeker like you get in Busch Gardens. Having to protect her had been obvious and had not even required a second thought; the high of doing her proud and being able squash Tom like the shit piece he was. However, realising it could be her who was selected, that so many betrayed her at breakfast, that she could be banished from Waystar or sent to jail even. He didn’t want that for her. She didn’t deserve that. Not Gerri. She gave her life to the company. It would be a fucking smack to her face if his dad did that to her. Then had come the other high. Being with Gerri, getting some kind of validation that she cared for him as he did her, actually being able to kiss her, touch her, actually being able to have sex with her, being able to have sex period was a fucking high. But here he was again, another low. Having to leave her. Not being able to hold her hand as she walked into the lion’s den. Not being able to throw himself to the wolves in her place to save her. Looking at her worried expression now as she tries for smile for him, still trying to be brave, just wasn’t fair on so many levels.**

_She can feel the panic rising again within her, though she has more or less accepted it’s highly likely it would be her. She feels a finality as she watches him staring back at her. So, this was it. The last time she might be able to do anything like this with Roman Roy and she’s finally admitting that her feelings run so deep that it depresses her so much that it may never happen again. They really could have had something. Life could be cruel like that. Sending you something you wanted when you couldn’t have it. But at least she had had the last few hours with him. The sex and the little they had admitted, knowing that something could have come of it, though the uncertainty of what or how well it would have worked. She could go on that, survive on that. She just had to get through this dinner now and then prepare for the rest that was to follow._

“Hey,” he whispers, holding his hand out, “C’mere.”

He moves closer to her, her smile growing a little as she looks at him bashfully, taking his hand in hers. He stands silently for a moment, his eyes boring into hers, watching as her eyebrows raise quizzically, her eyes widening as he takes her in.

He pulls her hand quickly towards him, jolting her as he plunges towards her, pulling her into his embrace, his arms wrapped firmly around her waist as hers automatically grasp his shoulders, a gasp falling from her mouth as their chests thud together. He buries his face into her neck, his eyes falling closed, as he feels the emotion building up within him.

**He doesn’t want to let her go. He wants to remember every part of this. The smell of her hair, of her neck; the feel of the silk of her robe, how much he can wrap his arms tightly around her, gauging where his hand touches his opposite elbow so he remembers her exact size; the feeling of her breath on his ear, the sound of her gasp as she exhales, the feel of her nails scraping against his scalp as she runs her fingers through his hair now. He doesn’t want to forget any of it.**

She closes her eyes, getting lost in his embrace, tears filling in her eyes as she tries to hold them in, so she doesn’t worry him.

 _Why couldn’t she have taken a chance earlier? Admitted it to herself sooner? Had more time for this? Opened herself up a little more?_ _She supposes she would have plenty of time to think about it. She supposes it would be harder if she was in even deeper than she is now._

He begins kissing her neck, trailing frantically up to her jaw at rapid pace so that he can reach her mouth. When he does, he kisses her furiously as she immediately opens her mouth to him, pouring every ounce of desperation and emotion currently running through her whole body as she pulls him tighter to her. He runs his hands along her back, removing one to pull up to the back of her head, pushing her more passionately into his lips. His frenzied attack on her mouth is powerful, sending her glasses askew, but she doesn’t care. _She wants this just as much as he does._

Eventually, they have to pull apart, though suffocation seemed like an agreeable way to go in Roman’s mindset. He isn’t ready to let her go, pulls her head into his so that their noses brush and their foreheads press together, sharing their breath.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do if it’s you,” he whispers, a tear running down his cheek.

She smiles, her eyes still closed, as she gulps, trying to prevent the crack she knows will come.

“You’re going to be just fine. I might not be able to be there physically, but I will always be on the end of a phone. Back to basics,” she offers gently, attempting a light quip.

She finally pulls back, caressing his face as she pulls away, though doesn’t let him go completely, as he continues to lightly hold her waist.

“I’m still going with the plan, Gerri. If you get chosen, I’m going to see my dad, to try and influence him. If he agrees to pass you over, I will scratch my right ear. If he wants to continue with you, I will scratch my left. It’s up to you if you want to do the other bits I suggested, but I’m going to do it,” he tells her firmly, tightening his grasp on her waist.

She leans forward quickly and kisses him hard again, her eyes tightly shut, wrapping her arm around his shoulder, as he responds eagerly, but she pulls back after a few seconds.

“Okay,” she whispers. “We will stick with that. But only that. Don’t go fucking offering yourself up instead of me or something equally idiotic. We need to keep this between us quiet; not tell anyone. I don’t want it going against any of us.”

He nods vigorously.

“It might not be you,” he comments weakly, hopefully. She smiles sweetly, touched by his innocence as she remains silent.

“Don’t forget if it isn’t, you promised to marry me,” he beams, caressing her back.

She pulls back, her face contorted.

“I don’t think that’s what I promised,” she laughs, holding onto his shoulders.

“No, but you offered to revisit this. More or less the same,” he corrects with a smirk, twisting the silk of her dressing gown in his hands at her waist.

“It really isn’t,” she chuckles, shaking her head at him.

They stand silently again, before he leans forward offering a final brief kiss.

“I need to go get ready,” he declares, letting her go slowly and walking past her.

“All right,” she acknowledges quietly, slowly following him to the door.

“Save me a seat next to you?” He requests, his hand on the door handle.

“Yeah. See you up there,” she smiles, her hands clasping her upper arms, protecting her body.

His face falls when he looks back at her, watching as she looks so vulnerable.

She smiles kindly, dropping her hands to her side as she approaches him.

“It’s okay,” she promises, bringing her hand to his jaw, pecking his lips lightly. “I will get you up there.”

“I will have a martini waiting,” he offers, taking her smile as a response and promptly opening the door before striding out her room, daring someone to ask him why he was in there.

She closes the door behind him, pressing her back up against it, and sighing deeply.

_Shit._


	9. Dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts of Roman in bold.  
> Thoughts of Gerri in italics.

She pushes herself off the door, taking a deep breath as she walks through the room, instantly taking her neglected phone to catch up on anything she might have missed; shocked that she lucked out with a moment of good internet.

_Considering she had hardly looked at it today, nothing was really there. The usual emails. A text from her eldest._

She collects her clothing together and packs them into her suitcase, just as he had directed.

_Who knew she would be taking orders from Roman Roy?_

Just the thought makes her smirk as she ventures on what she is going to wear tonight. She picks out her white linen pants, sifting through her tops trying to figure out which one to take. She picks up a deep blue one, holding it up, picturing what it would look like on. However, underneath she sees the red one she had thrown into the suitcase at the last minute, a bold purchase last year. She picks it up, running her thumbs across the fabric.

_You know what? Fuck it. She needs a bit of fierceness. It would look nice with that floaty kimono jacket she’s been waiting to wear. And what was wrong with going out on a high, to make an effort in her appearance to perk herself up._

She sets the items aside, packing up the rest of her suitcase before going into the bathroom to do her makeup.

_She usually would put on her music whilst she gets ready, but she doesn’t this time. She feels better with the silence around her, opening the window to listen to the waves instead. She would rather spend this time focussing, running over the cycle of what she needs to do if she’s named; the specific words she should choose so she doesn’t come across too threatening but firm enough for Logan to know she’s serious._

When she has everything but her lipstick on, she runs a brush through her hair; staring at her reflection in the mirror. She picks up her flat iron, at the last minute deciding to straighten it out more than usual, changing to flick slightly outward instead of inward; attempting to copy, the motion she had watched her eldest daughter doing when she had visited last Christmas. _It didn’t look that complicated. She’s curled her hair fully with these things before when she goes to meet her girlfriends, so she’s sure she can handle it._ When she successfully fixes it, she brushes again, attempting a little volume. She moves to put her glasses back on, deciding she looks better without them, reaching into her makeup bag to grasp her contact lenses.

She appraises herself in the mirror, fluffing her hair; feeling adventurous.

She finally changes into her clothing, donning some matching necklace, still not used to not having to pick out matching shoes.

She takes a final look in the mirror, fiddling with how the long knee length kimono jacket sits across her chest, if it should be more closed or more open.

_She sees a different woman. More light. More colourful. She likes what she sees, can see a small smile facing back. She wouldn’t have thought she would feel so light considering the dread she felt within her stomach._

She grabs her red lipstick in the bathroom, donning her warpaint and puckering confidently in the mirror.

_She was never one to cower. She wasn’t one to back down. She was Gerri fucking Kellman. There was no way she was going to go out there looking weak, no matter how much anxiety was sitting in the pit of her stomach. She would go out fighting, just as she always had her whole life. She could outwit the best of them, including Logan fucking Roy. She hadn’t let anyone get the better of her yet and she wasn’t going to start now._

She moves back into the room, looking at her reflection in the floor length mirror one last time; seeing her eyes narrowing, her posture straightening, her shoulders pushing back. She gives a last smile before she courageously leaves her cabin, striding down the corridor, attempting to use the adrenaline rushing through her to her advantage. _To syke herself up._ _She feels different to how she felt this morning, and it feels good._

She alights the stairs, hearing the chatter of the people in the seating area next to the outdoor dining table, watching as they come into sight as she ascends.

He is standing talking to Connor and Willa, rolling his eyes and pursing his lips, sipping the scotch in his hand. When he sees her, his face lights up, raising his eyebrows in acknowledgement as she walks towards him, rising her eyebrows in acknowledgement to Frank as she passes him.

**She looks hot; but didn’t she always? This is a different look though. Another one to store away for later.**

He turns around, reaching to the table behind him, turning around with a martini in hand which he swiftly passes to her.

“Thank you,” she says sweetly, turning a smile on her lips as she acknowledges Willa and Connor next to her.

“Yeah, with a text message demanding a martini to be ready when you get here, you fucking should be thankful. You would think I worked for you instead of the opposite way around,” he declares loudly for the benefit of anyone who would question it. He gives her a sly, knowing grin, as he turns back to Willa and Connor, including her physically in their group.

“About time you did something useful. So, what have I missed?” She asks, taking a sip of her drink to hide her smile from their jesting.

“Not much. Apparently, dad and Ken went to see Stewy today, for a final deal. It didn’t go well apparently,” Roman says raising his eyebrows.

She nods impassively, confused as to why Logan wouldn’t have informed her of that.

“So, what have you been up to all day Gerri? Haven’t seen you since breakfast.” Connor asks causally, taking a sip of his drink.

_Shit. She hadn’t considered she would be asked that._

“I’ve been around,” she says nonchalantly, taking a sip to come up with something, slowly gulping down her drink. “As per, I had some work to do and the signal here is so terrible. It took me twice as long as it should have. I was ready to throw the laptop into the sea,” she offers, giving her best fake laugh, Roman smirking as he spots it, whilst Connor and Willa join in laughing.

**Well done to her for coming up with something so quickly.**

“It’s not been great,” Willa joins in giggling.

“Yeah, I tried to call my daughters as well, but it was lagging a lot, so that took up a bit of time,” she nods, before she takes another sip of her martini, hoping she doesn’t have to lie about anything else.

Roman grins behind his glass, watching as she squirms though expertly saving it, but also seeing that Connor and Willa are buying it.

**He feels like he should probably jump in and direct the conversation away.**

“What did you guys get up to?” Roman shifts the questioning to them.

“Aww nothing,” Connor responds as Willa nods. “We chilled by the pool a bit. Had lunch. Spent time in the cabin. Oh my god, I almost forgot! You should have seen it!” Connor shouts excitedly.

Gerri and Roman are taken aback by the sudden enthusiasm, chancing a glance at each other, before returning it to Connor as he continues.

“Tom and Shiv went out on the boat, to a cape or something. But when they came back, dad was eating lunch and Tom marched straight up to dad, picked a chicken leg up off his plate and ate the whole thing. Putting it right back down on his plate,” Connor finishes laughing heartily.

Gerri looks shocked, whilst Roman is fully astounded, laughing through gasps.

“No! He just ate dad’s chicken?” Roman asks still laughing.

“Yeah, didn’t he?” Connor directs to Willa.

“Yeah. It was really weird. Frank said he just said, ‘thanks for the chicken’ and then got up and went back to his cabin,” she tells with her face scrunched up in confusion.

Gerri listens silently, her eyebrows furrowed. _What the fuck had happened?_

Roman laughs even louder, “fuck off! What did dad do?” Looking quickly between Connor and Willa, not caring who tells him.

“He just sat there and let it happen. I think he was more shocked than any of us. Then he went off to talk with Shiv,” Connor divulges, smiling widely as his shoulders shake.

“Shit. He must be having a mental breakdown,” Roman chuckles stealing a glance outside to where Tom is sitting, taking another sip of his drink. “I wish I had seen it.”

“Yeah, where were you this afternoon-,” Connor starts, but Gerri sees it coming and cuts him off.

“So, where is Logan? Isn’t he here yet?” She asks loudly, her eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer from Connor, staring him out.

“Oh, uhm… nah, I don’t think so. Shiv said something about him talking to Ken. But you can’t really get much out of her or Tom right now,” he says, pointing outside, showing them silently sitting across from each other. “I think something happened. Don’t know what though.”

“Ah, okay. I’m going to go get another drink,” she says sweetly, clinking her empty glass with her nail, already beginning to walk away before there is any more pressing questions she would need to lie about.

“Yeah, same,” he says after draining his glass, following her, wanting to keep the notion of sitting next to her at dinner. He doesn’t give a shit if Connor thinks anything of it but feels relief when he quickly hears Connor diverting his attention to Frank behind him.

When they are out of earshot of them, the conversation loud enough, she is the first to whisper.

“Fuck, I didn’t even think anyone would ask where I was all afternoon. I thought I was fucking wallpaper,” she whispers conspiratorially, puffing as she beelines to the drinks, filling up a flask with different liquids.

“It was a good save. Very believable,” he comments, watching her expert hands as she shakes the cocktail flask. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay,” she answers calmly, the anxiety within her stomach is still present, but not as prevalent as it was this morning. “You?”

“Meh,” he answers shrugging with his voice high, as she pours out the martini, picking up the glass and leading the way to the outdoor dining table.

_She sees Tom and Shiv at the top of the table, facing one another. The option of Shiv or Tom to sit next to. Tom. A strategic move. When Logan looks to her to tell her, about to reveal his decision, he would be reminded of the other plausible option of Tom. Might make him waver about his choice._

“Hey,” she greets both Tom, staring at his plate, and Shiv, staring off to the side at the ocean, as she places her glass down on the table, pulling her chair out.

“What up, fuckwads?” Roman shouts dramatically as he begins to pull out his own chair next to Gerri.

Tom looks up briefly, shocked out of his thought process.

“Hey,” he says quietly, looking back down at his plate immediately, leaning heavily on his arms folded on the table.

Shiv doesn’t speak, simply looks over to Roman, giving a nod and looking back around to the view.

Roman grimaces, wondering what the fuck was wrong with her.

 **Did she have PMS or something?** **Shit. Something must have happened on their adventure after her starring role as Judas this morning.**

He glances at Gerri, his eyebrows raised, dumfounded, whilst she shrugs slightly in response.

They are both thankful when everyone takes their lead, starting to pour into the room and take their seats.

Karl pulls out the chair next to Roman, gesturing an apprehensive nod to them both; as she gives a strained smile in response whilst Roman simple smiles, enjoying watching Karl squirm.

“Where were you today, Gerri?” Karl ventures lightly. “Frank and I missed you on the deck at lunch.”

_So what? He was going to pretend that they were friendly now? He missed her? Fuck off._

“Oh, I’m so sorry Karl,” she says charmingly, her voice riddled with sarcasm. “I’m sorry I missed that. I was busy working. Had a great conversation with your wife though. She can’t wait to see you,” she finishes with a killer smile, blinking rapidly.

Karl begins spluttering, as Roman bursts out laughing, completely aware of her bluff.

“You didn’t,” Karl declares panicked, his eyes wide.

“No, luckily for you I didn’t. And luckily for me, you’re not my boss and I don’t have to divulge my whereabouts to you,” she retorts, spinning back on her chair as she watches Greg sitting down across from her.

Karl sits down silently, as Roman spots Greg throwing daggers at him.

**He’s still angry about earlier. Jesus, fuck.**

“You know Greg, after what you said to me this morning and giving me the eye just now, I might get the impression that you’re in love with me,” Roman says fluttering his eyelashes with a cute smile, his head cradled in his hands as his elbows lean on the table.

Greg starts spluttering, “what? No! You’re a dick,” he finishes weakly.

“What’s that?” Roman says, holding his hand up to his ear, “you want my dick. Sorry, that is the property of our General Council, Ms Kellman. It’s only pimped out for public consumption at her approval,” he says looking around to Gerri as though waiting for said approval.

“Eww, fucking gross,” Greg shivers repulsed, turning his attention to his hands fiddling in his lap.

Gerri simply rolls her eyes, too used to his cracks as she turns to Tom, seeing his still remaining puppy dog expression.

_Clearly, he and Shiv have had a fight. Not exactly surprising considering her antics from this morning. She did look uncharacteristically worried and remorseful. It was about that time that girl learned that she had the power to hurt others, including the people she cared for._

“Remember that, Gerri,” she hears Frank call from across the table, pulling her attention away from Shiv’s pouting.

“Sorry, I wasn’t listening. What did you say?” She shakes her head, giving Frank her attention.

“I was about to tell them about that time we were on Logan’s old yacht in, what was it? It must have been in ’09? Off the coast of Italy, in Sardinia, for the team building. When Logan made us go around the table to come up with ideas for how we should go about bonding with one another?” He looks at her expectantly, half laughing.

She smiles widely, “oh god, yeah,” she says putting her head in her hand, hiding her eyes and then looking back up to him.

“What happened?” Roman asks looking at Frank and back to Gerri, waiting for someone to spill the beans.

“We all panicked, but it wasn’t like we had a choice. So, we were going around the table and everyone was coming up with these panicked corporate answers. Like sharing a fun fact about yourself and naming a positive and a negative about the person sat next to you and shit like that,” he continues, smiling wider, gearing up to the punchline.

Gerri continues nodding, with a smirk on her face, aware of what’s coming.

“Then it got to Gerri and she just looked up at Logan, straight in the eye, and completely straight-faced said, ‘I think we should get drunk and play truth or dare.’ Completely stone-faced,” he finishes laughing, trying to imitate her expressionless face but bursting out laughing again.

Karl starts chuckling, remembering the moment, as she begins laughing lightly herself.

“Everyone was gobsmacked. Didn’t expect it at all. Especially not from you Gerri,” Frank continues, wiping his eyes.

“What?” Roman grins, looking around to her. “You, playing truth or dare?” He starts chuckling a little.

“It was a joke! It was too tense. Though it wouldn’t have been a bad suggestion if I hadn’t been the only woman on board. Every dare would have ended in someone sexually harassing me. It was a better suggestion that spin the bottle,” she jokes, though there was a huge element of truth to it from what she had witnessed over the years.

“Nah, Gerri. We all know you were with Baird. We would have kept it tame,” Frank jokes, wiping at his eyes.

_She wasn’t so sure they kept it tame when Baird was involved though. Double standards. She was certain that Baird got involved with other women just like the rest of them did when she wasn’t there. Had felt the heartache of it a few times. But she had let that go a long time ago._

“Oh yeah, sure,” she nods dramatically. “It would have been the usual male crap like a beer challenge against Logan.”

“Nah, we probably would have just got you to reveal Baird’s darkest fetishes in your truth’s, so we had some more clout on him,” Karl sniggers, attempting to join in.

“Yeah, you think I would have just started rhyming off different seedy kinks like pegging and bondage, which is not true before you start. Like I would ever divulge anything like that. I would have taken the forfeit,” she hits back, as Roman watches.

**Pegging? Bondage? How did he get his dick to stop reacting?**

“Not if the forfeit was skinny dipping in the ocean,” Connor joins in, laughing.

“Well, I guess we will never find out which I would have chosen,” she smiles, picking up her martini and finishing it off.

Everything goes silent, as Karl dramatically fiddles with the collar of his shirt, uncomfortable.

“You know Gerri. You’re looking very nice tonight. You look different. Like there’s a glow there,” Karl starts, as Roman looks over to him grimacing.

**Perv.**

_She knows exactly what Karl is trying to do but complimenting her wasn’t going to get him back into her good books._

“Thank you,” she responds plainly, lifting up her full wine glass now and taking a sip.

Roman rolls his eyes, looking to the head of the table as he sees his dad ascending the stairs, looking completely ominous, Ken trailing silently behind him.

**Something wasn’t right. Why did Ken look so defeated? It couldn’t be…**

“Gerri, we have been on a million these things and I’ve never seen you wear red,” Karl compliments again, as she moves in her chair uncomfortably.

_So, he had noticed her bold choice. She wishes he would just stop. It felt seedy._

“It’s a nice colour,” she hears Greg silently agreeing, throwing him a forced smile in response for attempting to be kind.

_She wasn’t used to the compliments._

However, her attention is drawn to Logan and Ken who are now standing forebodingly at the top of the table, her stomach sinking again and her breath catching as she realises this is it. She feels a surge in her chest when Logan looks directly at her, or was he looking at Tom? _She’s starting to regret her seating choice._

**No, surely fucking not? It couldn’t be Ken. He wasn’t an option.**

_Shit. Ken is with him. He’s obviously had a hand in this decision. He had been wavering between both her and Tom. But he looks so down? Wait.. was this…_

“I’ve decided,” Logan declares.

**Decided what? Why didn’t he just put them out of their fucking misery?**

He looks to Ken, sees how down trodden he looks, sees that he’s hardly looking at anything but the floor. **That confirms it for him. He knows his brother and when he’s trying to be noble.**

“Ken? Come on, really?” Roman asks surprised, waiting for the verbal confirmation, though the silence is golden. “Dad, no.”

_It was Ken? Ken was to be sacrificed?_

She’s astounded. _It was so out of left field that it hadn’t even crossed her mind._ She can’t help but feel the relief that begins to flood her as the adrenalin continues run through her body.

_She never thought it would have been Ken. Logan and Ken were so close that she never would have thought he would sacrifice him. He would never be CEO if he was the scapegoat. That wasn’t something she ever thought Logan would want to commit to, always wanting to keep Ken as a plausible option. He could have chosen him for a number of reasons though. The betrayal. The drugs. That he was the best possible sacrifice in the eyes of the board next to Logan himself. She just never thought he actually would have considered it. She can’t help but feel sympathy for him though. Whilst he was insufferable at times, he was a victim of the family, of the Roy’s just as all the Roy children were. And here he was again suffering in the name of the Roy’s and Logan. The dinner was young though, he might not be the only one, she wasn’t out of the woods yet._

“There’s… what about the… one of the shit fuckers,” he says gesturing mainly to Frank, though he means Frank and Greg also.

“Hey, it’s okay,” they hear Ken say resolutely as he opens his napkin.

Roman watches Ken.

**He isn’t ready to accept Ken as an option. It’s ridiculous. It would ruin him. After everything Gerri had spelled out for him, he knows that he would be destroyed.**

**He knows him; knows that this wasn’t his idea. This was forced and he’s just trying to take it like a man, like their dad had always told them to. But he shouldn’t be taking it. Ken should be fighting it. He was protecting their dad. He understood that loyalty, but he didn’t have to do it.**

He leans forward onto the table, unable to take his eyes off Ken.

“You okay?” He asks Ken, genuinely concerned for him.

Ken nods back, “yeah… I’m good.”

**He doesn’t buy it. Not at all. He knows Ken.**

“And is it just… I don’t want to be rude… Just him?” Karl pipes up.

**He should have known that Karl would be one to ask that question. Cunt only cares about himself.**

She looks expectantly to Logan, burning for an answer to that question herself.

“Uh, yeah, are there any additionals?’ Greg asks nervously.

When she sees that Logan has no answer, she takes her opportunity to attempt to save them all.

“First…” she falters, “second born son, with your responsibilities. It will be a very simple sell,” she finishes looking to Logan, gauging whether he agrees.

**Roman sits feeling like shit. He’s glad it’s not Gerri. He can feel the relief of that but it’s bittersweet. He hadn’t expected Ken. Ken was his brother and even with their rivalry, Ken, Shiv, and him were close. They were all each other had growing up. He can’t help but feel that his dad is betraying him in a different way now. He doesn’t know who he would have picked between Gerri and Ken. I mean, he probably would have still saved Gerri instinctively. She was the one predominantly there for him.**

**But Ken? Fuck. Maybe it would be good for him? Help with the drugs, with the theft? But he still feels devastated that it’s happening.**

He is shocked out of his thought process when he hears his name.

“Roman… you’re taking over as full Chief Operating Officer,” he hears his dad announce.

He is shocked when he hears it, but it always comes with a contingency.

She looks around to Roman, taking in his shocked reaction, revealing nothing outwardly but elated internally.

“Oh yeah? What with fuckin’ Captain Cautious back in the next room,” Roman comments bitterly.

“No, no. Frank’s gonna be responsible for the cruises clean up. You’re on your own,” Logan states firmly, watching Roman’s every move.

He’s shocked, that he won’t deny. She looks down, sighing, trying to hold in her excitement for him. She looks up briefly to Logan out of the corner of her eye as she listens to him speak.

“Solo,” Logan confirms.

She chances a glance at Roman, giving him a knowing look as she sees him looking back at her, still shocked by the outcome.

_Rockstar and the Molewoman are back in the game._

**He can’t believe this is the outcome. She’s safe and he gets a promotion. It feels off.**

“Can you handle it?” Logan asks challengingly.

Roman looks to his dad, “well yeah. Yeah, dad, that’s…,” he trails off sighing, not being able to resist looking guiltily to Ken.

**How was he supposed to fell pleased when Ken was being thrown to the wolves?**

He watches Kens teary expression, a genuine smile forming on Kens lips towards him.

**That makes him feel even worse.**

“No, Rome. It’s great,” Ken offers him encouragingly.

Roman raises his eyes in question.

**Was it great?**

Ken nods towards him; seeing the pleasing question across his face probably.

“Okay guys eat up. This one’s on me,” Ken declares as they all begin lifting their cutlery.

She sits for a moment, the relief fully washing over her that she’s safe, that she’s not been chosen, that it’s all over, that she’s survived another purge.

_She feels bad for Ken. Can see that he doesn’t want to do it._

_The vibe at the table is as though someone has just died as everyone sits in complete silence. She supposes it’s like someone has, because Ken’s life could be over now. They are mourning the reality of the death of his life as he knows it now. But she also knows that some of them are just silent to not draw any attention in the chance Logan makes a last minute additional sacrifice in their direction._

She picks up her fork finally, beginning to pierce her food, brushing her hair out of her face, noticing that Roman is still leaning on the table, just staring at his meal as he ruminates.

_If there had been any modicum of conversation, she would encourage him to eat something, even congratulate him on his new appointment, maybe even sneak a hand onto his thigh in solidarity, but it’s too risky. Any off movement would draw attention._

So, she picks up her wine, takes a sip and continues eating in the awkward silence of the room as she worries for him and tries to imagine what’ going through his head.

**He can’t believe its Ken. All of the viable options of the worst cunts in this room and he chooses Ken? He felt guilty, like he was taking Ken’s spot. Like Ken had to be sacrificed for him to gain this win. He would have been laughing if it had been any of the other fuckers, other than Gerri; celebrating this validation from his dad that he had been waiting for, for so many years. He’s so glad Gerri is safe. He was ready to fight his dad for her. However, he doesn’t feel the same for Ken. Does that make him a horrible person? Not feeling that for his own blood? He feels sad for Ken rather than fighting spirit. He knows that Ken has agreed to this, so there isn’t much to fight for. But what about his kids? What if he ended up doing some crazy drugs in jail? Or get beaten to pulp for his embarrassing rapping? He doesn’t feel right about any of it. Why couldn’t it have just been fucking Tom and Greg with some fucking Karl and Frank thrown in?**

The dinner passes in silence, Roman not even grazing a fork. When the dinner ends and the plates are cleared, Logan picks up his glass of wine, clearing his throat, ready to say something else.

“A toast,” Logan declares. “First off, to Ken,” he says lifting his glass as everyone follows his motions, Roman lifting his glass slowly as he looks directly into Ken’s sad eyes.

“And secondly, to family,” Logan gruffs, taking a huge swig of his wine.

Roman rolls his eyes as everyone pipes up, “Ken and family,” all of out of sync from each other.

She takes another huge drink of her wine, simply relieved he didn’t just try and throw them a curve ball.

Logan gets up from the table first, “Gerri, Karl, Frank, my cabin in five. We have some hunkering to do. I’ve got to take a piss first.”

Gerri nods, trying to hold back the grimace on her face.

Karl and Frank get up first, trailing out of the room as Tom gets up next, marching back towards his cabin as Shiv watches him leave.

_Clearly, she’s at war on whether to follow Tom or stay here for Ken._

Shiv remains seated, Greg rising instead to follow Tom.

Gerri reads the room, pulling her chair out, ready to make her way to Logan’s cabin. Roman looks around to her, watching her rise.

“I’m gonna get a scotch. Ken, you want one? Shiv? Con?” Roman directs across the table.

“Yeah, that would be great,” Ken answers quietly, as Shiv shakes her head, standing up to move into Greg’s vacant seat.

Roman follows Gerri quietly inside, taking in the shake of Connor’s head as he goes. She stops at the drinks, allowing him to do what he has promised.

“I’m proud for you, Rome. You earned that position,” she tells him gently, chancing a brief stroke of his arm, retracting it quickly.

He raises his eyebrows, nodding sarcastically, continuing to pour the drinks, not willing to discuss the guilt he feels yet, but it seems he doesn’t have to.

“I know this is hard for you,” she comforts, placing her hand back on his arm to get his attention, not letting go this time.

“Go and speak to Ken. Tell him what you’re thinking… But I know your dad and I know Ken. They won’t change their minds,” she reminds him gently.

“I know. That’s what scares me,” he says honestly, completely raw, letting out a huge breath. 

“But it will probably make you both better to let him know that you wish it wasn’t him,” she smiles, stroking his arm.

His eyes close as he takes another deep breath, finally opening them again and looking up at her sad smile.

“If you need me, give me a text. But go spend some time with him. It could be the last time for a little while,” she pauses here, doesn’t want to get his hopes up, but she can’t stand his sadness.

“But don’t worry, honey. I will do everything I can to fight for him, and try and play it all down to avoid the worst of it, okay?” She smiles reassuringly, nodding her head.

**That made him feel better; knowing that Gerri might be able to fix it all, like she did everything.**

“Okay,” he breathes.

“Come by my room later if you want. Just make sure no one sees you, okay?” Gerri encourages, nodding her head again, hoping he will take her up on it.

“Yeah,” he whispers, watching as she removes her hand from his forearm.

**He wants to hug her. Wants to feel her embrace but he knows he can’t. He knows it would be weird if he came in here to get the drinks and then didn’t go back quickly. He knows that they couldn’t even sneak into a room for a moment so he could get some comfort for two minutes.**

So, he gives her a weak nod instead as he picks up the two drinks.

“Okay,” she whispers back. “Don’t drink too much. You didn’t eat so it will hit you hard. Try and eat if you get any kind of appetite,” she suggests as she begins walking away.

He simply nods, walking towards the outside, passing Willa as she walks inside, just leaving the Roy children alone to grieve.


	10. Siblings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roman's thoughts in bold

Roman walks back onto the deck slowly, taking a deep breath, being met with the silence of his three siblings clearly as somber as he was.

“Come on,” he starts walking towards Ken and passing him the drink. “Let’s go to the comfy seats,” he directs, moving down the stairs his father had alighted earlier, not waiting to check if they are following.

He walks directly to the huge square couch, crawling across it to make room for everyone. Only when he settles down does he see them all dutifully following. He looks across to the sun, seeing it begin to set, noting how something so beautiful can be present when they all felt so shit.

He watches as Shiv crawls across to the back of the couch, moaning about her jump suit as she does, trying to balance the drink she had brought. Ken silently sits next to him, stretching his legs out, whilst Connor takes a seat across from Ken, as they all awkwardly sit silently.

**Well, it looks like it was going to have to be him.**

“You don’t need to do this,” Roman starts quietly, looking down at his drink, then chancing a glance at Ken.

“That’s what I said,” Connor pipes up, as Roman looks around to him, sees Shiv out of the corner of his eye, looking down at her drink awkwardly, her tongue pressing against the inside of her cheek.

“There are plenty who can take the fall. You put yourself up for this, right?” Connor continues, “dad would never have chosen you.”

“Of course, he would have!” Roman rolls his eyes at Connor, “have you met pop?”

“Yeah, I’ve known him longer than you actually,” Connor directs to Roman more heated. “He would never have chosen Ken. Ken’s the favourite!” Connor finishes, gesturing his hand towards Ken, as Roman notices Shiv still sitting silently, shifting on the spot.

**Fuck them. He knew what the fuck was going on here.**

“Ken… Don’t do take it, man. Go tell dad now before they organise anything else. They can pick any of the others. I honestly don’t know why he didn’t choose Tom. He’s the fuck up here,” Roman pleads angrily, staring at Ken who still sits silently, looking at the glass he is balancing in his hands between his knees.

“Hey!” Shiv shouts, speaking for the first time since this had all happened.

“Oh, she speaks!” Roman shouts sarcastically at her, throwing his hand in the air towards her as she looks to him shocked. “She finally comes to the hubbies defence. Little late for that isn’t it, Shiv? Where was that gusto this morning?”

He gives her a suspicious look, waiting for her to take his bait. **Why the fuck wasn’t she trying to talk Ken out of this?**

“Shut the fuck up, Roman. You don’t know anything,” she grounds out with more bite than their usual back and forth.

Roman begins chuckling, “oh, feisty!”

However, Connor interjects before it can continue, “hey, would you two cut it out!”

Roman rolls his eyes, directing his attention back to a silent, solemn Ken, “look, there are plenty of others who can take the hit. Frank, Karl, Greg…”

“Gerri,” Conor suggests after a pause, raising his eyebrows thoughtfully as Roman’s head whips around angrily at the mention of her name.

“Gerri doesn’t make any fucking sense! What’s the deal with you harping on Gerri?” Roman bites sharply, his agitation growing.

“The real question is what’s the deal with you defending Gerri so hard? She’s General Counsel. She’s literally at the heart of the whole thing,” Shiv raises her eyebrows at him suspiciously.

“Well considering she’s a woman, it’s just bad publicity. They wouldn’t be satisfied with her. She wasn’t even General Counsel when the whole thing happened. Fuckin’ Baird was,” he sits up, defensively throwing his arms around.

Connor pipes up again, “Ken wasn’t even involved at that point either. So, how does he make sense?”

“He doesn’t either! That’s my whole point!” He shouts at Connor again, his frustration reaching its peak. However, he turns his attention back to Ken, “go speak to dad, Ken. Come on,” Roman says standing up on the couch and climbing over him. He taps Ken’s arm when he’s on the ground, trying to encourage him to get up. “Come on. I’ll come with you,” Roman encourages, almost pleadingly.

“No,” Ken says firmly, extracting his arm away from Roman. “Just stop for a minute, okay? I was chosen and I want to do it.” Ken looks down at his glass again as Roman huffs, drawing his hand across his face.

“But why? Did he tell you why?” Roman demands, hovering over Ken.

Ken sighs, silence filling the air between them all again

“You know, the Incas, in times of crisis, would sacrifice a child to the sun because they believed it would return good fortune. Because what else can you kill that you love so much, that it would make the sun rise again?” Ken declares them thoughtfully, reminiscing on his dad’s previous words.

Connor drops his head, whilst Shiv looks over into the ocean merging with the darkening sky. However, Roman looks around at them all wildly, his face contorted.

“Sorry, fucking what?” Roman asks angrily.

Ken sighs, continuing, “No one else is big enough and they won’t take dad. From the hearings, my sniping at Gil, I’m the face of this now apart from dad in the media. I was across the clean-up and he trusts me not to flip. So, it has to be me.”

“That’s bullshit. It should be dad!” Roman grits through his teeth, beginning to pace.

He watches as Ken sighs and looks down again, whilst Connor and Shiv roll their eyes, groaning.

Roman imitates their groans, completely exasperated, “oh come on! You know I’m right! He’s the one people don’t trust. He’s what’s swaying the shareholders and he’s why Stewy and Sandy are gaining so many supporters.”

“They won’t accept him. And who would even take over? You?” Shiv fires back exasperated.

“I don’t give a shit who, but there has to be a better option than this! Did you even put up a fight Ken? Did you suggest any of the other fuckers instead?” Roman asks annoyed.

Ken remains silent, hunched over, glaring at his glass.

Roman waits a moment, then throws his hands up, pacing again as he realises he isn’t going to get an answer. “Fuccckkkkkk! This is so fucking frustrating!”

However, Connor has a more controlled approach.

“What about your kids, Ken? You could go to jail for this. You don’t want this for them?”

Roman watches as Ken winces slightly, capitalising on it.

“Yeah! Your kids will be abandoned! Your career fucked! You’ll never work again. You will always be the little rich boy fucking con! You need to fight dad on this, Ken!”

However, he doesn’t expect Ken to look up to him aggressively, his jaw clenching.

“Don’t you think I’ve considered all that?! I know that! It’s something I have to do! I’ve made up my fucking mind so just let it fucking go!” He fires at Roman, who groans and starts pacing again.

**THIS WAS NOT THE FUCKING TIME FOR HEROICS. FUCKING MORON!**

“What can we do, Ken?” Roman hears Shiv speak softly, actually seeming pretty genuine.

“Stop trying to talk me out of it,” Ken looks to her seriously, then to Connor, his eyes finishing on Roman.

There is a long silence, the tension between them all thick. Roman looks out to the ocean, the sky much darker now as the sun reaches its climax of setting, a breeze picking up.

**Why the fuck would he take this bullet for dad when he had so much to lose? Was it the guilt? Because of his betrayal of dad? His loyalty to dad? He understood that loyalty; had been gaslighted into it along with the rest of them, along with the abuse. But this was a big fucking hit to take. This was his whole life, not just a shitty board meeting. Connor was right, Ken was dad’s favourite. His dad had always made the hierarchy between them all clear. Ken and dad had always had a weird bond that was different to the rest of them. Shiv had had the daughter thing, but it didn’t come close to the fucking macho man, chauvinistic shit his dad embodied. Ken’s bond to dad was probably stronger than his ever was, because he definitely wouldn’t be taking it lying down if he was in Ken’s position.**

Roman looks at them all, sensing the awkwardness, not knowing what to do anymore, he thinks of what Gerri told him. “ **Tell him what you’re thinking…”**

“I don’t want you to get fucked. You’re my brother. I don’t want it to be you,” Roman says quietly, standing in front of Ken with his hands on his hips, running his foot along the wooden platform below him.

“I know, man. I appreciate that,” Ken looks up to him, a small smile.

**He thinks back to what else Gerri said. “I know your dad and I know Ken. They won’t change their minds.” That much is obvious now. He knows he’s not going to change his mind. Gerri is right. Nothing is going to change. He needs to just make this time good now.**

“Uh… can I suggest a butt-first hug?” Roman says holding his arms out, smiling wryly, repeating Kendall’s words back to him from the night before Shiv’s wedding.

Shiv starts laughing, whilst Ken forms the most genuine smile Roman’s seen in a while.

Connor looks at all of them, confused by the fact that he has clearly never seen any of this before.

“You’re serious?” Connor asks him shocked.

**He forgot Con wasn’t there.**

Ken opens his arms, laughing, “bring it in.”

Roman turns around, sticking his ass out and backing into Ken as Shiv starts moving around into Roman’s seat, cosying up to Ken’s side to join the hug, whilst Ken gestures his hand to Connor to get him to join in.

Connor forms a genuine smile, seeing this is real, and gets onto his knees, crawling over the cushions.

“You guys,” he says softly, as he piles on top of them, giving them all a huge bear hug, crushing them all, mainly Roman who is lying across Ken and Shiv’s lap.

Roman starts groaning as Connor continues hugging them, with Connor taking this hint, moving off quickly, crawling back over to his original position as Roman does a kind of side roll, cracking his neck to get over to the seat Shiv had been previously sitting in. As he settles, he looks up, seeing Shiv extracting herself from Ken and sitting back properly, then sees a server over her shoulder; calling her over and ordering drinks and shots for all of them.

There is silence again, none of them really knowing where to go with this. Roman pipes up again.

“So, are you doing this because you want to go to prison to get a mini-me and wear a little bandana while you rap ‘It’s a hard knock life’ with all the hardened gangsters who want to take you as a prison bitch?” Roman asks seriously, watching as Shiv holds back laughter, a smile forming on Ken’s face again.

“You got me,” Ken laughs, as the sever comes over to pass them all their drinks, leaving a tray of shots in the middle of the huge couch.

“Keep ‘em coming!” Roman shouts. “Yeah, I just don’t think they would appreciate L to the OG in there. They don’t really have a trained ear,” Roman smirks, taking a swig of his drink.

“Yeah, I feel like it was kind of a one of jam,” Shiv adds sarcastically behind a small smirk as she joins in the ribbing.

“I will never forget dad’s face…” Connor asks, swirling his drink in his hand, laughing as he looks down at it.

Roman’s eyes bulge, “dads face? I will never forget my own cringe. ‘Dude be the OG.’ Fuck… who wrote that for you? Actually, don’t tell me. I would need to sue for damages.”

Ken continues to chuckle, taking the ribbing, becoming much more comfortable now the conversation had returned back to normal.

“Ok, shots!” Roman shouts, reaching for one as he encourages everyone else to pick one up; everyone but Connor not even flinching when they down it, as Connor winces.

“I will never forget dads face with the Rose prank on Rhea in Dundee. That was gold,” Shiv laughs, whilst the rest join in.

“That was a good one, but nothing compared to the shit we used to do to the nannies,” Roman continues taking swigs of his drink.

Shiv laughs as one comes to mind, “you remember the ketchup bottle?”

Roman starts getting excitable, looking to Shiv, “oh my god! Yeah!”

Connor looks between the two of them confused, “what happened?”

Shiv sits up, crossing her legs, cradling her drink within them, and holding her hands out in preparation, “so, the nanny at the time, Claudia. You remember? English bitch at mom’s request? She used to take the ketchup at the beginning of nearly every meal, you know the glass bottle ones they used to have, yeah?” She asks Connor, as he nods, following the story.

“Well, she used to shake it at the start of every meal, so vigorously, like she was giving it a hand job,” she continues, gesturing how it was shaken, as Roman starts letting out little bits of laughter, everyone paying attention to Shiv.

“So, one day, she had been an extra bitch, and Ken unscrewed the top of the bottle before she sat down. When she shook it, it went everywhere!” Shiv exclaims, throwing her hands out at her sides.

“Her face, her silk shirt, the tablecloth, the ceiling. It was so fucking simple but genius,” she gestures, looking to Ken who was chuckling as Connor roared with laughter.

“But to make it even better, Ken and I were like sniggering, whilst Roman laughed hysterically. So, of course she blamed him. Sent him to bed with no food,” she finishes, sitting back and picking up her drink again.

“Was worth it,” Roman confirms. “Couldn’t even take her seriously because she had a big gloop of ketchup hanging off her eyelash. I just laughed harder in her face and then all the way up the stairs. She was fuming,” he laughs, thinking.

“I wish I had seen that,” Connor added, his laughter abating.

“You remember when we only spoke French in front of the American nanny? Can’t even remember her name. Anyway, mom sat us down with her and told us _in French_ to stop because the woman was stupid and we shouldn’t take advantage of that,” Roman remembered snickering, whilst Ken and Shiv started laughing again.

**He definitely thinks he learned his dark humour from his mother. The one good thing she bestowed on him.**

“The only one I remember was the one where Shiv pretended that Roman had drowned. That was sick,” Connor interjects with a smile.

“Ahh,” Roman begins, “my finest performance yet, and my first kiss. The gal only realised it was fake when I stuck my tongue in her mouth when she was trying to revive me. First taste of whiskey too, now I think of it. She got fired after that. Big lush,” he sniggers, taking a drink for good measure.

“Hey! Don’t forget my performance. It’s not easy pretending I give a shit about you and producing real tears at the age of 6,” she hits Roman on the arm, as he quirks his eyebrow. **As if.**

“You remember when we put the tape over the sensor for the cable box so Scottish Moira couldn’t change the channel. She changed the batteries like four times; ended up not watching TV for like a week,” he chuckles.

“No, that wasn’t funny!” Roman becomes very serious. “I had no part in that. I liked Moira. She was the only one who was nice to me.”

**He didn’t talk about Moira. Moira was probably the closest thing he ever had to a mother.**

“Ya wee torag!” Ken shouts, impersonating Moira’s harsh accent.

“Ya wee shite!” Shiv joining, giving a better impersonation.

“Oh my god, yeah. She was the longest lasting, wasn’t she? Until she died?” Connor adds, looking around for confirmation.

“Yeah,” Roman says solemnly. “She was with us from before I was born until I was like 11. Then bam. Heart attack.”

“To be fair, Rome, she was nearly 80,” Ken interjects, still laughing from the impersonations.

“I know!” He whines, becoming solemn. “But she was nice. She deserved to be taken care of.”

**Moira was never even really affectionate, but she didn’t treat him like shit. She just gave him the time of day once in a while when no one else did. Was a cute wee old lady. Her voice was tender with him when he was sick, but never really any other time. Her Scottish brogue often ripping through all of them. But she was his biggest constant and it hurt him to think of her.**

“You can act angelic if you want, Rome, but you were the worst! Fuckin’ Sophie? Come on!” Ken adds, looking at Roman sceptically.

“She deserved it,” Roman said defiantly, finishing his drink.

Connor looks around confused, “Sophie?”

“Remember? First nanny after Moira? When Roman made her tea and put milk in it? When she was allergic?” Shiv offers to Connor.

“Oh, fuck yeah. Didn’t she almost die?” Connor looks to all of them for confirmation. “Had to get paid off and sign an NDA?”

Ken nods towards him as he smirks.

“She still deserved it,” Roman adds quietly again. “Stupid bitch.”

It goes silent again as they all take in the sea breeze, watching as the moonlight hits the water.

“I’ll miss this,” Ken says plainly; first speaking to his knees and then looking up at all of them with a sad smile.

“Yeah,” Connor agrees quietly, leaning forward and slapping Ken’s knee.

“Yeah,” Shiv whispers sadly, as she drains her drink.

Roman sits awkwardly, feeling sad, looking around at them.

**Fuck this. They weren’t going to do this.**

“Come on you sappy whores. Let’s get Champagne! Could be this fuck faces last night of freedom!” Roman shouts as he waves to one of the servers.

“Fuck, Roman,” Shiv punches him for his insensitivity, whilst Connor looks at him exasperated.

“Excuse me! You! With the bun… Yeah, hi. Champagne. Two bottles! Four glasses. Fucking grazie or merci, or whatever the fuck you speak,” he shouts, settling back down as Ken smiles at him.

***

The conversation, laughter, and champagne were flowing for the rest of the night. Connor, the old man, retreating the earliest, offering Ken a teary goodbye and hug. Ken had stayed up for another hour, finally retreating at 1am, claiming that he had a long day ahead of him. Both Shiv and Roman offered a sad but not teary goodbye, genuinely hugging him in turn holding out a little longer than what was normal for them.

**When was anything ever normal?**

However, Roman and Shiv had decided to go on the hunt for some food, having both of them drained the champagne on an empty stomach. They went to the small bar indoors, finding nothing, and moving into the kitchens, informing the staff that they were dismissed and that they could serve themselves. A decision that won Shiv a disgusted look from Roman.

Once they had decided the array of shit they were going to take, they went back to the deck, settling on the large couch, spreading everything they had set their eyes upon out between them and delving into it.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Wambsgans? Trouble in paradise? He not so forgiving for what happened this morning?” He ventures, hoping she would be more open now she had several drinks in her.

“I wasn’t that bad,” she declared muffled, with her mouth full of food, trying to push the falling pieces back into her mouth.

“It really was,” he laughs, opening a massive bag of chips. “Ken defended him more than you did.”

“Yeah, well…” she trails off sadly, refusing to look at him, instead focusing on what her next target for eating was.

“How bad is it?” He asks, looking at her nervously.

“I don’t know. It’s bad though.”

“More to it than just this morning?”

Shiv nods, her face tensing, looking as if she’s trying to hold back tears.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

“Relationship shit?”

She nods again, still hasn’t looked up at him, as he studies her, grasping a chip and shoving it in his mouth as he ponders on whether he should take a chance and tell her what he actually thinks.

**Fuck it.**

“Okay… I’m like not going to be me for a sec, so brace yourself,” he starts, sitting up a little; shuffling back so he is upright, looking at her seriously, crossing his legs over. This grabs her attention as she finally looks up to him silently.

“My therapist told me, that our childhood wasn’t normal. Like, it was actually really fucked up,” he starts, his face contorting and his hands gesturing around in the air.

“Shit. That’s deep,” she retorts back quickly, her voice laced with sarcasm. “Is this guy going for the highest IQ in the history of time or is he a modest man?” She finishes, smirking as she grasps the bag of chips he had set down, pulling out a chip and crunching into it.

“Fuck up and let me finish. He said that because of that we don’t form normal, healthy attachments or relationships… Have you ever been to therapy?” He asks genuinely, placing his hands on his knees.

“Fuck that. That’s for fucked up people,” she retorts quickly.

He sighs, hanging his head.

**He’s trying to be serious and she’s just doing the same coping shit that he does. He gets it but fuck it’s so frustrating.**

She sees his reaction and begins laughing, “I’m kidding! I’m kidding! No, I’ve not.”

He looks back up at her, exhausted.

“I would really consider it, Shiv. Figure out if you maybe act in certain ways because of what happened to us. So, you can change it and actually be happy.”

“I am happy.”

She looks awkward, nervous.

**She’s so fucking obvious.**

“Okay,” is all he answers.

**She was going to have to figure the rest out herself because he can’t be bothered.**

He snatches his chips back off her and slouches down again, munching them. She laughs, reaching over for pretzels.

“Since when did you become so insightful?” She asks him with a smirk.

He shrugs, “just one of the many unseen charms of Roman Roy.”

She rolls her eyes, smiling at him, offering a pretzel, before he shakes his head.

“Since I realised, I was unhappy,” he offers after a minute of silence, looking into his bag of chips as though he were distracted. She doesn’t say anything, just stares at him, astounded by his honesty.

“And are you happy now?” She asks him seriously.

“Not quite. But I’m nearly there. I’m a lot better,” he answers truthfully.

She sits silently again before smiling and whispering, “I’m happy for you, Ro.”

He smiles at her sincerity, decides to give her another bash.

“Look, I don’t know what you do or why you do it. I’m still trying to figure out my own shit still. But get therapy, look at yourself, and try to be better. I mean look at yourself, you’re a fucking disgrace,” he says seriously, flicking his wrist in the air before her, whilst she looks at him shocked. He quickly offers her a small smirk.

She hums at him, narrowing her eyes, looking at him suspiciously.

“What?”

“You sound too much like an adult.”

“I am a fucking adult, thank you,” he raises his voice, retorting curtly.

“You sound too logical,” she says with her eyes squint, then her mouth drops open. “You sound like Gerri.”

“Oh, fuck off!” He drops his head to his chips again.

**That was a fucking compliment if he ever had one.**

“You do!” She laughs pointing at him. “And what’s the deal with that? With what happened at breakfast? Hmm? You got a crush on Gerri? Because she wouldn’t even let you give her the Heimlich if she were choking. I think she would rather just die,” she continues laughing, crunching on a pretzel.

He smirks at that. **Fuck you, bitch. Little do you know I had my dick buried in her this afternoon.**

“No,” he smirks though he turns serious.

**He knows he can’t let Gerri down with this. Has to try and sober up to be very convincing.**

“There is nothing going on. I like Gerri. She’s been a great mentor for me, just like Frank is for Ken. Yet no one thinks Ken has a hard-on for Frank, though he probably does and fucking vice versa.”

She scoffs at that, just the image of it enough.

“Maybe… just maybe if more people gave me the time of day like Gerri does when she at least considers my ideas, rather than writing them off, then I would have defended them when they were facing the slaughter as well.”

Shiv hums, feeling guilty that he was completely fucking right.

“Plus, Gerri is smart. People overlook her,” he begins, though Shiv interrupts him.

“And she gets paid handsomely for it.”

**Little bitch.**

“Yeah, she does. But some gratitude could go a long way. I don’t think anyone realises how much we need her. You really think we could get through this shit storm that’s heading without Gerri if she went to jail?” He reasons, eyeing her as though they thought her completely stupid.

“Fair point. But everyone appreciates Gerri. She’s reliable.”

“Yeah but you really think people really show her that? Everyone literally offered her up as bait at breakfast after years of her loyalty to this firm, getting them out of numerous shitstorms over the years. Look how you ended up when dad froze you out for like a week. Everyone wants to be appreciated, even stone-cold killer bitches.”

Shiv hums, thinking about it, “I suppose she does seem to have been on the outs with dad since he put her as the successor.”

Roman nods, glad that she can actually see his point of view.

“I wouldn’t want to face a legal battle or a proxy fight without Gerri. If everyone thinks about it, neither do they. I was saying it for the good of Waystar, because one day, with Ken out, Connor a moron, and you a hormonal loser, IT WILL ALL BE MINE!” He declared maniacally, topped off with a fake evil laugh at the end.

She rolls her eyes, “in your fuckin’ dreams.”

“In reality young child,” he smiles, taking another chip.

“What is it opposite day?”

“Maybe it is not. Maybe it's Maybelline.”

They both eat in silence, until all the food is thrown to the side, their stomachs swollen.

“I need to go see Tom,” she whispers, fiddling with her jump suit.

“Go get it over with,” he says seriously, changing to humour just as quickly, as she starts to shift.

“FLEE JESTER! I’m bored of your presence anyway! Send me Connor or Greg in your wake!” He smiles, lying still as she gets up and bids him goodnight.

He sighs, looking up to the sky, taking in the moon and all of the stars.

**Fuck.**


	11. Exploring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts of Gerri in Italics  
> Thoughts of Roman in bold.

He saunters down the stairs, through the corridor to the cabins, still trying to figure out on whether to take Gerri up on her offer.

**He thinks of what his therapist would tell him to do. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, too quickly though he may have already failed that. He had slept with her for the past two night now. She would end up getting bored and irritated by him. Now that she wasn’t the sacrificial lamb, they would be able to actually have the conversation of how they were going to take this forward, so he knew where he stood. She had said earlier she would have wanted to explore it, but he doesn’t want her to back off because he’s too much. Even if all he wants to do is crawl into her bed and wrap himself around her; falling asleep to the sound of her breathing, the smell of what he just categorises as Gerri, his head rising and falling against her chest.**

He stops at his door, hand leaning on the door handle, looking further down the corridor to where Gerri’s door was.

**She was probably fast asleep. He wouldn’t want to wake her. Well he would actually but he’s trying to be considerate. She might be up still working on her shit in bed. He would be content with just falling asleep to the sound of her typing. She had been the one to invite him. He hadn’t been the one to push her. She wouldn’t ask him if she didn’t want him there surely? Maybe she would want someone there to actually discuss how she was happy about not being chosen? He wants to try and resist the burning need to see her, but he can’t. This shitshow qualified as an unusual situation where one might need support. He would be stronger another day. If she was awake, he would stay, if not, he would leave.**

He slips his hand from the door handle, his bare feet carrying him down the corridor to her room. He looks down both sides of the corridor, ensuring it was empty; tapping lightly on the door to her room, attempting to be gentle. He presses his ear to the door, trying to see if he can hear anything inside. He looks at the handle, wondering if she would care if he just barged in.

**He had literally fucked her this afternoon, surely, he could be allowed some kind of concession?**

He pushes the door handle down smoothly, peering through the crack into a dark room, only the moon providing some light.

“Gerri?” He whispers, moving further through the door, allowing his eyes to adjust as he realises that the bed is still made.

He flicks the switch, turning on the bedside lamps instantly as he closes the door behind him, realising she isn’t in the room. He moves into the bathroom to make sure, which he also finds empty. Just looking at the toilet makes him remember that his bladder has been full for a while now, taking the opportunity to relieve himself.

**He really should go back to his cabin. Maybe send her a text.**

As he washes his hands, he looks into the mirror noting the dark circles under his eyes, his haggard look.

He sighs deeply, no longer willing to stare at his reflection, the reality of it a little too much. As he reaches to the side for the towel, he spots her glasses sitting on the shelf at the side. A smile forms on his lips, as he wipes his hands.

**He’s always wanted to do this.**

He picks up the glasses, opening the arms and putting them on his face.

**Jesus fuck, she is blind.**

“Sheeeeeeet,” he says aloud, moving them far away from his face and then close again, back and forth until he finally allows them to sit on his nose.

He feels dizzy, unable to really see anything through them. He looks up to the mirror, squinting as his eyes start to strain, trying to make himself out in the mirror. He instead moves the glasses onto the edge of his nose, looking over the rims at his reflection with a classic pointed Gerri look. He raises his eyebrows like her. Rolls his eyes and bursts out laughing.

“Who says you don’t know how to flirt?” He flutters his eyelashes, impersonating her voice and giggling after.

“Roman, you little slime puppy,” he says harsher, raising his eyebrows. He laughs again, taking the glasses off and placing them back down on delicately where he had found them, trying to remember if that’s how they sat. **If anyone would notice some fine detail like that, it was Gerri.**

He looks down to the sink, seeing an abandoned lipstick. He picks it up, taking it’s cap off and twists it until the lipstick begins to appear.

**Red.**

The one she must have put on tonight. He continues to twist it until it won’t anymore, fascinated by how it rotates. He takes in the straight edge at the top, lightly runs his finger across it, realising that this is likely where it caressed her lips earlier. He rubs what little lipstick that had transferred between his index finger and his thumb, watching as it blends more and more. He looks back to the lipstick, rolling it back down and replacing the cap on top, placing it back in its exact place on the sink.

He looks around again, trying to consider what else he can fondle. He sees a nude leather wash bag, reaching to pick it up, and unzipping it.

It’s full of an array of shit. Makeup. Medicine. Toothbrush. Toothpaste. Razor. Various creams.

**He doesn’t know what he’s looking for. Doesn’t think he’s looking for anything really. Just an exploratory mission. Maybe she has a vibrator in here. One of those bullets or eggs or some shit. It makes him hard just thinking about it.**

He smirks at that, realising there is nothing of the sort in the bag but wondering what else she might have hidden in this room.

**He realises that this would probably be the only time he would ever have to do a little snooping around. He probably shouldn’t. She would probably go crazy. But he wants a little insight into what Gerri has, what’s her possessions, what kind of things does she own, what book does she read, what kind of vibrator does she use. It was weird. That he knows. It’s an invasion of privacy. That he also knows. But he finds he’s becoming obsessive. The need to explore too strong to stop himself. He could find something he never wanted to find.**

But he finds he can’t stop himself as he zips the wash bag back up, placing it down gently and making his way back into the main room.

He first sees the drawer where she keeps the hidden USB in the bra.

**A good place to start. He considers stealing the USB and hiding it somewhere else in the room in the prank, but he knows that’s going too far. He imagines her reaction, going crazy, throwing him into the sea for the worry he would cause. It’s not worth it. He’s all for teasing Gerri but not upsetting her.**

However, when he opens the drawer, he realises it’s empty. He opens the one below it, realising it’s also empty.

**Damn woman followed his advice. He can’t snoop now.**

He pulls a face, his lip curling in disappointment, as he closes the drawer and wanders around, realising there is nothing of interest around here, now her shit was packed away. He wasn’t going to start shifting through her suitcase.

However, from the corner of his eye, he spots a blueish satiny thing on the couch, moving over to it swiftly and picking it up, letting his fingers hook into the straps as gravity pulls it to the floor, his eyebrows rise to his head.

**Was it a negligee? A nightdress? It’s short. Kind of sexy. He wouldn’t expect that of Gerri. It’s plain though, which he would expect of Gerri.**

He nervously scoffs as he images her in it, then places it back down on the couch, unwilling to tamper with it, that being a step too far from what he’s already doing.

He sees a book lying on the desk next to her speaker. He picks it up considering it.

**The Lullaby of Polish Girls?**

He looks at the photos of the three girls on the front, one with a creepy rabbit mask on.

**It kind of reminds of him of Donny Darco.**

He turns the book around, reading it.

**Girl with her family comes to Brooklyn in 1980s from Poland… yada yada yada… goes back and makes some friends… yada yada. Meh.**

He puts the book back down, pulling a face.

When nothing else catches his interest, he makes his way to the bed, flopping onto his back on the side she had slept last night. He reaches into his tight pants pocket, pulling out his phone and realising it’s dead. He rolls his eyes, rolling to plank his face into her pillow, inhaling her scent deeply. He looks up eventually to see if she had at least left out a charger. He looks to the bedside table, finding nothing, then rolls across to the other side, spotting her tablet. He looks at it suspiciously, looking down the side of the bed, seeing her phone charger. He plugs the phone in, grasping the tablet after and rolling so he’s back on her pillow.

He pulls back the Waystar cover of the tablet, seeing the dots you needed to join to gain entry, but knowing that this would be a piece of cake, having taken in the pattern she had input hundreds of times over the past few months.

**He had noticed it looked like she had put in a huge G but never wanted to ask her about it in case she changed it. He had grown used to seeing it, wanting to keep it as his own little secret about her.**

He traces the pattern, the tablet instantly opening. He smiles, excited about having a little entry into Gerri’s world.

He looks at the apps, all the usual boring shit. Every fucking news app around the world. A sudoku in the corner. He rolls his eyes.

**Of course, that would be the closest thing to a game Gerri would have.**

He spots the ‘Photos’ app, excited to see what she has, though he doubts it’s nudes.

**One shitty thing about people in Waystar is that they usually don’t have social media. He had a shitty little fake account so he could snoop on people, not being trusted to actually have one in case it ended in a legal battle. So, you can’t do the fun thing of snooping at photos of the people in Waystar when they were younger, looking at their family members, looking who their new adds were to see if they were seeing anyone. You actually had to wait for people to get drunk and give you information to find out anything.**

He opens the app, finding it empty. He sighs in disappointment.

**He doesn’t know what he wanted to find. Maybe a family photo with her daughters to see what they looked like. She had photos of her and Baird in her office, and one of her daughters when they were kids, but he wondered what they looked like now. He tried to find them on social media, but it was near impossible. He didn’t know enough about them to pin them down.**

He comes out of the app, closing it down so it wasn’t active.

He looks at the rest of the apps, seeing that she has Spotify on it, chuckling as he remembers her singing and dancing in the mirror this morning.

He opens it, happy that is already logged in. He looks immediately to her playlists spotting three.

**_70’s Disco_ **

**_Motown Classics_ **

**_Mom’s playlist_ **

He smiles, ready to start exploring them all.

**He can’t explain it. He’s been here before. This obsessive about someone, but with Gerri it felt different. He’s snooped on all his girlfriends. Wait, did he just call Gerri his girlfriend? Need to get that waaay to the back of his head. He had looked through all the past girl’s stuff, to check up on them. To make sure they weren’t cheating on him, messaging other guys, ready to leave him. He had to monitor them. If he were honest, he can’t say that he wouldn’t do the same with Gerri if there was a messenger app on this tablet. He knows it’s vile and an invasion of privacy. He knows it’s sick. He just wants to be important to her. The most important to her. That’s the feeling inside him. He can’t help it. He’s learned really well with the therapist how to rationalise it now. He used to be a lot worse. He hopes now, that if he was faced with it, he wouldn’t look because what he knows about Gerri is that she wouldn’t lie to him. If he asked her if she was messaging another guy or had been dating someone else, she would tell him outright. She might not be forthright, but she wasn’t a liar. It’s not just the idea of another guy though, just people the person at the top of the messaging list, the person being messaged the most, whether they send other people emoji’s but not you – like all of that actually meant someone else was more important than you.**

**But he’s often been this way: obsessed needing to find out if he’s being betrayed; finding out if he’s a piece of shit, if everyone else was more important than him, of whether the person he gave a shit about was getting fucked by someone else. He doesn’t think Gerri is, but even if she was, even though he might be heartbroken, he knows that he can rationalise it all now. She wasn’t his, as much as he thinks he wants her to be. She’s free to be with whoever she wants to be with, and she had the right to have friends and family who she cares about and cares about her. He doesn’t want to be controlling like he was with the others. He wants be an addition to that if she would allow him to be. She cares about him. He does know it, though its often easy for the intrusive thoughts to allow him to forget it momentarily. But he’s working on that. On the rationalisation. He knows it’s his personality disorder, the Borderline that’s making him think that way and that it’s not his fault he has it, that he doesn’t need to be controlled by it. The CBT with his therapist has taught him that even if people have other people they care about, it doesn’t mean she wouldn’t care about him. He just needs to communicate that with her eventually. First, he needs to figure out how she even would want to progress this, so he didn’t get ahead of himself.**

He looks back down to the Spotify app.

**This though? He just wants to know Gerri. He just wants to know the music she loves, so that he can listen to it and think of her. Can imagine her dancing around her bathroom to it. So, he can think of her smiling and happy. He knows it’s still obsessive, maybe a little creepy, but he also knows from the feeling in his chest and stomach when he thinks of her dancing around to the music, thinks of her happy that it’s not sinister and is mainly from the love and care there.**

He opens the _70’s Disco_ and _Motown_ playlists, both created by other users, and begins scrolling through, spotting the one’s he knows, clicking on the odd one he doesn’t know to see if he recognises it.

Then his attention is drawn to the _Mom’s playlist_ , seeing that it was created by her. He assumes it was one of her daughters that had created it though. He scrolls looking through the short playlist. Some Fleetwood Mac songs, Stevie Nicks, Heart.

**Oh, rock chick.**

Then it takes a twist where it’s all over the place. Madonna, Kylie Fucking Minogue. Fucking Fireball by Pitbull. He chuckles at that, tapping it and starts laughing. Listens to the beat and imagines her dancing around to it at some fucking Zumba class. But then he sees the best one. Gary Fucking Glitter. He starts howling with laughter. Gerri likes Gary Glitter.

**No fucking way!**

He presses the song, cutting off Pitbull to play ‘Rock and Roll – Part II’. He didn’t think he knew it and then he recognised it.

**Fuck. He likes this song. It’s in like, every amazing movie. Happy Gilmore. D2: The Mighty Ducks. Full Monty. Joker. He liked a Gary Glitter song. Fuck. He was still definitely going to tease her about it though.**

He lets the song continue to play as he goes back to her apps, thinking of looking into her internet history next.

**Maybe she was naughty and satisfied her itches with some porn. She had mentioned today that they were basically a porn category. She had to know that from somewhere. He wonders what she’s into. Maybe it was their Old & Young category? FemDom? He doubts it though. He thinks the most she’s been into that was her berating him. He wonders if she ever did get anything out of it? Or maybe she was into Voyeurism? Fuck that’s hot. The idea of fucking Gerri in public. In a cinema. In a park. In a lift. My fuck. He wants to find out. **

He opens the app, going to the history and scrolling through it. Disappointed again to find out it’s all work shit. Fucking Waystar shit, articles about the DC coverage, about Ken, about Tom, but he’s shocked at what he comes across after scrolling back to last week, the most recent popping up first.

**_ 6 days ago _ **

**_02.59 – US Embassy in Turkey – Official Website_ **

**_02.59 – Search US Embassy in Turkey – Google Search_ **

**_02.58 – BBC News - ‘BREAKING: Roman Roy removed from Four Seasons Conference Seizure in Turkey’_ **

**_02.58 - Roman Roy Hostage Turkey – Google Search_ **

**_02.44 - Roman Roy Hostage Turkey – Google Search_ **

**_02.40 - Roman Roy Hostage Turkey – Google Search_ **

**_02.35 - Roman Roy Hostage Turkey – Google Search, page 3_ **

**_02.34 - Roman Roy Hostage Turkey – Google Search, page 2_ **

**_02.33 - Roman Roy Hostage Turkey – Google Search_ **

**_02.28 – Roman Roy safe – Google Search, page 2_ **

**_02.28 – Roman Roy safe – Google Search_ **

**_02.27 – Roman Roy – Google Search_ **

**_02.26 – News Bursa conference shots – Google Search_ **

**_02.24 – “SHOTS FIRED! Ongoing ‘situation’ at Azeri Investment Conference in Four Seasons in Bursa, Turkey’ – BBC News_ **

**|**

**_02.02 – “LATEST: Ongoing ‘situation’ at Azeri Investment Conference in Four Seasons in Bursa, Turkey’ – BBC News_ **

**|**

**_01.42 – “LATEST: Ongoing ‘situation’ at Azeri Investment Conference in Four Seasons in Bursa, Turkey’ – BBC News_ **

**|**

**_01.32 – “LATEST: Ongoing ‘situation’ at Azeri Investment Conference in Four Seasons in Bursa, Turkey’ – BBC News_ **

**_01.29 – “LATEST: Ongoing ‘situation’ at Azeri Investment Conference in Four Seasons in Bursa, Turkey’ – BBC News_ **

**_01.25 – “LATEST: Ongoing ‘situation’ at Azeri Investment Conference in Four Seasons in Bursa, Turkey’ – BBC News_ **

**_01.25 – Four Seasons Turkey Hostage News – Google Search_ **

He continues scrolling through the hours before, looking at the numerous searches she had input, her worry pretty evident just from looking at them.

**He hadn’t even really asked her about it. How it had all happened. If she were worried. He feels bad.**

**He feels even worse for snooping now.**

He pauses the song, closing down all the apps, and throwing the tablet onto the bed. He lies back on the bed, closing his eyes, and breathing deeply.

**He’s glad he has seen it though. In a weird way, it further confirmed how she cared about him, didn’t it? Maybe she was just searching in a work capacity though? He had to stop this doubt. At least it opened up a conversation for him to actually ask her.**

He can feel himself growing more tired, as he lies back, the alcohol still taking its effects; deciding he’s going to try and sleep now. But after only 30 seconds, his eyes pop open, too uncomfortable with the silence. He looks down at the tablet, thinking about whether he should break into it again.

**He doesn’t think she will mind too much?**

So, he picks it up, makes the familiar ‘G’ pattern, and opens YouTube; searching for her DC trial, turning the volume up and propping it up on the pillow next to him. He turns on his side, half cuddling her pillow, half burying his head in it as he inhales her scent again; still watching her on the tablet as she whips her hair from her face, pressing the mic button to answer Gil’s questions. Her voice lulls him, he grins as he listens to it, his eyes fluttering closed as he nods off.

***

Half an hour later, Gerri is finally dismissed by Logan, making the trudge back to her cabin.

It had been a long night. She had grabbed her laptop on the way to Logan’s cabin, prepared for a long hunkering ahead. She had been on the phone to Karolina for a lot of the night, discussing venues, times, press to invite for the press conference tomorrow for Kendall’s announcement.

She had been left to her own devices in the beginning so that she could legally figure out what he would be willing to admit to, updating Logan as she went, whilst he, Frank, and Karl had discussed the logistics of everything else. She had to be careful what he was going to admit to; knowing it had to be serious enough for him to be the only person to take this fall, but also minimal enough to create a defence for it. Hopefully, with what she had chosen, it could be enough to argue for a plea deal resulting in hefty fines, house arrest, or minimal prison time. The latter seemed most likely with people like Gil out to make an example of a rich boy in a multi-billion-dollar corporation.

She had attempted to block out Karl for the majority of the night; his sucking up to Logan had become progressively exhausting. They had eventually had it all finalised though. The press conference was set for 1pm EST. It was 2.30am here just now, so 8.30pm in New York. They had arranged for a helicopter to collect Ken at 6am, the jet set to take him to New York afterwards. He would make it just in time for the conference, with ample time on the jet to prepare and familiarise himself with the statement. The information had been passed to Karolina, who had presented a finalised statement, approved first by herself, and then Logan; Frank and Karl catching a peek at it once it had been approved.

Only now that she is walking to her cabin, carrying her laptop, her phone clutched in her hand, does she realise that she hasn’t heard from Roman all night. She hopes he hadn’t got too drunk and had actually taken her advice with Kendall.

When she gets to her cabin, she attempts to cradle her laptop on the inside of her elbow, reaching for the door handle. She instantly sees the light is on, hearing her own voice repeating back to her alongside Tom’s, seeing Roman lying across her bed, his face buried in a pillow. She gives a huge sigh as she closes the door behind her, locking it immediately. She tiptoes over to the desk, placing the laptop and phone gently down as she watches him diligently.

“Rome?” She whispers, gauging whether he is awake.

“Roman?” She tries one more time; determining he is passed out from the lack of response. She sighs again, moving quietly to the bathroom and closes the door behind her. She looks at her reflection, her makeup faded within her tired eyes. She works to clear her face, brushing her teeth vigorously, and then removing her contact lenses; replacing her glasses back onto her face.

She opens the door silently again, still watching him as she makes her way to the couch where she had left out a nightdress earlier. As picks it up, it easily falls through her fingers, hanging lightly off them.

_It’s not usually what she would wear to bed, but she had started finding the normal pyjama sets too restricting in this heat, even with the air con playing a vital role._

She looks over to him again, ensuring he was still fast asleep.

 _She should go into the bathroom to change but she’s so exhausted that she can’t be bothered messing around. It’s not as if she is shy about him seeing her body after what they had done this afternoon, but she feels like it’s like another step into this new intimacy._

_Fuck it. He’s asleep anyway._

She removes her kimono jacket and top quietly, draping them across the couch as she goes; whipping the night dress over her head and on as soon as her bra is removed, her pants still on. _It was one thing to change with him here, and another to parade around naked._

She pushes her pants down when the nightdress is on, the hem of the nightdress grazing her knees as she folds the pants and drapes them over the couch also.

She moves her fingers nimbly to her underwear, preparing to remove them as she would usually do, second guessing it when her thumbs are hooked into the waistband.

_Gerri, you literally had sex with him earlier. There is nothing he hasn’t seen._

She rolls her eyes at herself and removes them also, throwing them over to the couch.

She finally takes a moment to figure this out, her hands pressed on her hips, watching him snoozing.

_He looks so comfortable, but he’s still in all of his clothes, lying on top of the bed covers. She thinks she should wake him so he would have a more comfortable sleep. Not to mention he’s almost in the middle of the bed, she wasn’t going to have him crushing the covers, so she had to squeeze into the unoccupied side and battle for covers._

So, she walks over to the side he dominates, pressing her knee onto the bed, her hand gently touching his shoulder.

“Rome… Rome…,” she says softly, shaking his shoulder.

His head jerks up, still clutching the pillow, eyes bleary.

“Hmmm?”

She can’t help the small smile that forms on her face.

“Come on, Rome. Let’s get you into bed,” she whispers.

“I’m in bed,” he groans far too loudly, drowning out the tablet that is still blasting her voice; punctuating his statement by slamming his head back into the pillows and settling in.

“We need to get you changed and in bed properly. Come on,” she pushes a little more forcefully this time, tapping his shoulder and stepping back onto the floor, waiting for him.

He groans loudly in response, rolling onto his back and star fishing in the bed with his eyes closed.

Again, she can’t help the smile on her lips from growing, her head shaking slightly.

But when he peeks through one eye at her, her face falls immediately to a warning stare, her hands coming up to her hips. He closes them and groans again as he sits up and shuffles over to the edge of the bed, sitting in front of her with his eyes still closed, hunching over.

She moves quickly to his shirt, unbuttoning from top to bottom, completely aware that the only way this would get done quickly is if she helps him.

“You focus on your pants,” she directs, already half-way down his shirt as he moves to unbutton and unzip his pants, his eyes still closed.

Once the buttons are undone, she pushes the shirt off his shoulders as he helps her take the shirt off, however, when she’s leaning over him, having got one arm out, trying to pass the shirt behind him to the other hand, he takes an opportunity and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her to him, pushing his head into her chest and inhaling slowly.

It catches her by surprise, but she responds immediately, dropping the shirt, wrapping one arm around his shoulders, the other hand pushing his head harder into her chest as she runs her fingers through her hair.

“You all right?” She asks quietly after a moment, as she feels his hands clasping behind her, his elbows resting on her hips.

He gives a nod against her, tightening his embrace.

“Did you eat?” She asks caressing his scalp, pulling her head back to see his eyes are calmly shut, breathing her in deeply.

He nods again.

_She’s not going to get much more out of him in this state, she can smell the alcohol off him._

“Come on, honey. Let’s get you into bed, hmm?” She uncharacteristically moves her lips to the crown of his head, planting a kiss there, before pulling back and grasping his shirt as he is forced to let her go. Once she has the shirt off, he stands and whips his pants off in one motion, kicking them away on the floor, leaving only his boxers on, as she moves behind him and pulls the covers back. He instantly falls back on the bed as she rolls her eyes when she sees the pants he has discarded, bending to pick them up, and then lying his clothing at the bottom of the bed.

“Get in,” she directs again, forcing him to swing himself properly into the bed with a groan, as she moves the covers over him, and he settles back into the pillow he had been embracing before. She picks up the clothing and throws it onto the couch next to her own, as she listens to his sighs behind her.

She grasps her phone, moving over to the bed now, happy that she will finally get the chance to lie down after such a long day. She sits on the edge of the bed, taking the tablet between them and shaking her head at her image as she pauses herself mid-sentence, closing it down and putting it back on the bedside table. She moves to plug her phone in to charge, seeing his already there, she unplugs his and re-plugs her own.

_She can lie down now._

She takes off her glasses, placing them on the bedside table; flicking the light off, plunging the room into darkness, with the moon offering a little light as it comes through the window. 

Finally, she takes a deep breath as she lies on her back, closing her eyes.

_She was safe. Fuck. She honestly had thought it was going to be her. Just the thought of having to go through the legal battle, going to jail, her daughter’s disappointment if they chose to speak to her ever again after it. Fuck. And here she was safe for the moment, another bullet dodged, all of her back up evidence ready to be filed away until next close call. It was a relief in one sense, a thrill in another._

“You were right, you know,” she hears him say quietly next to her, shifting onto his side to face her, as she looks around to him for some clarification.

“He won’t change his mind,” he whispers sadly, opening his eyes to look at her, the moon reflecting off his pupils.

_Kendall._

She rolls onto her side towards him, cuddling into her pillow, her other hand falling on his upper arm, caressing it.

“I’m sorry, Rome,” her voice caressing him. 

He hums, closing his eyes as her hand travels up to his face to caress his cheek.

“I’m glad it’s not you,” he declares confidently, moving his arm over her waist, his fingers trailing softly against her back, tickling slightly.

She smiles at his honesty.

“Me too,” she whispers after a beat, shuffling closer to him.

He meets her half-way, planting a kiss solidly on her lips and then retracting quickly to shift himself so he can press his head up against her chest, his head resting at the bottom of her pillow, crushing her bent arm under it, as she wraps her other arm around his shoulders, whilst his squeezes around her tighter.

She closes her eyes, inhaling deeply as her chin presses against his crown. She feels a brief kiss placed over her heart, hearing his breathing even out before she drifts off herself.


	12. The Talk

She wakes up lying on her front, buried into the pillow, a ticklish feeling on her back, fingers trailing across them.

_It had been a while since she’d been woken up by that. She can’t deny it feels good._

A smile comes to her lips as she opens her eyes, seeing the view out of the window, the light pouring in as she had forgotten to draw the drapes shut last night. She can hear his breathing next to her, the fingers trailing up her spine.

She shifts, turning her head to face him, her eyes sleepy as she sees him perched on an elbow, a grin on his face.

“Morning,” she growls out with a smile, settling back into the pillow as she sighs.

“Helloooo,” he offers, not ceasing his exploration, trailing across her bare skin towards her shoulder blade. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

She smiles broader, closing her eyes momentarily, but opening them again as she watches the concentration on his face as he watches his movements across her back.

“I’m surprised to see you looking so perky after the way I found you last night, reeking of scotch,” she jibes, closing her eyes as she concentrates on his touch.

“Hmmm… I didn’t drink any more than usual. Got something to eat like a good little boy,” he jokes, hooking the strap of her night dress and sliding it down her shoulder so he can explore her skin uninhibited.

“How was it? Or do you not want to talk about it?” She ventures, opening her eyes so she can read his reaction.

He scrunches his face up, not really knowing how to answer.

“Was okay. Tried to talk him out of it. He was having none of it. Apparently, dad chose him because no one else made sense and he was the face of the operation. But he’s willingly doing it; he’s claiming it wasn’t forced on him,” he explains, sighing deeply.

Her face remains blank, simply listening to him, seeing the inflections of hurt across his eyes as he tries to concentrate on her, instead of what he’s talking about.

“But, all in all,” he continues, “it wasn’t a bad night. We spent most of it talking shit. Taunting each other, remembering the funny shit that happened when we were kids; bantering and shit. That part was good. Just sucks because it’s probably the last for a while.”

“I know, Rome,” she moves a hand from under her pillow, stretching awkwardly to settle it on the arm propping him up. “It’s going to be hard for all of you. But I’ve already started working at trying to minimise the damage for him,” she offers a small smile when his eyes flick to hers.

“Yeah,” he says turning his attention again to her back, offering a quick smile, running his trail down her spine lower so it caresses over the satin of her night dress, stopping at her waist and then moving back up.

“The press conference is going to be tonight. 1pm in New York so 7pm here. He’s getting flown out this morning,” she divulges, scratching her nails across his forearm.

“Yeah, I guessed that. Helicopter woke me like an hour ago,” he murmurs absently.

She watches him silently, enjoying his caresses but trying to ignore them, feeling herself beginning to get worked up at her core.

_He looks sad still and she doesn’t know how else she can make it better._

“I saw you helped yourself to my tablet last night; going to have to change the pattern now,” she smiles, her eyes sparkling at him as she begins to waken more.

He chuckles, “a big G. Never would have taken you to be so immature. Do you draw hearts in your journal with our initials in them too?”

“Who said it would be your initials?” She challenges, smirking at him.

**He can feel the doubt that was ruminating last night come into play; the vulnerability. Who did say it would be his initials?**

“You’re right. Fair play,” he answers quietly, ceasing the trailing of his fingers and rolling onto his back, the forearm she was caressing moving to settle on his stomach out of her reach.

_She hadn’t been expecting that. She thought he would jibe back as they normally did. Was he genuinely offended by that?_

She watches him closely as he stares at the ceiling, a thumb war beginning on his stomach.

**He thinks he should just ask her outright. She wouldn’t lie to him.**

“Would it be my initials?” He asks quietly. “Are you seeing or like interested in someone else?” He continues staring at the ceiling, knowing she’s going to tell him the truth, knowing that the answer could shatter him.

_She considers toying with him. Telling him that she is kind of seeing someone and giving the run around by describing him until he realised it was him. But she sees his nerves. Sees his brow furrow, his chest rising and falling quicker, and she can’t do it to him. He needs clarity just now that she resolutely wasn’t._

“No, I’m not seeing anyone. I haven’t been on a date for a good few years, never really had the time nor interest to. Only went on a couple after Baird died, kind of realised it wasn’t for me,” she tells him seriously.

**He’s relieved. Relieved that some suave, debonair fucking silver fox didn’t have her attention, taking her to the opera, telling shitty jokes, or fucking her brains out in her spare time. But the fact she’s said she realised dating wasn’t for her scared him. Did it mean she wanted to keep this casual? He thinks at this rate, he would take any part of Gerri she was willing to offer, but he knows how he feels, and he thinks fuck buddies would tear him apart eventually.**

“But I have to admit, this little rich boy, pain in my ass, Rockstar came along…,” she smiles, leaning up on her elbows to look at him, he smiling as he looks at his hands.

“… and started acting the fool, making me laugh, showing his vulnerability, making me care, trying to turn his life around by working hard, and masturbating down the phone to me. Then suddenly I started to become a lot more interested. Started enjoying his stupid text messages, started enjoying his phone calls, him noticing me, having a partner in crime. I started really caring about him, and quite honestly started getting really turned on,” she finishes, stretching her hand out again, caressing his chest as he finally looks around to her, his eyes darkening.

“Yeah?” He whispers.

“Yeah,” she whispers back. “I told you that if I wasn’t chosen, then we would discuss how we are going to explore this, but how about first, you get the fuck over here after working me up since the second I woke, and remind me exactly why I should be glad that I’ve not been sacrificed?” She grits out, challengingly. 

He doesn’t miss a beat as he plunges over to her, kissing her solidly, passionately as she smiles into the kiss, turning over onto her back as he pushes her shoulders to help her turn, straddling her hips and threading his hands through her hair whilst he continues kissing her fiercely. She moans into the kiss, her eyes closing as she throws her arms around his neck, pulling him to her tightly, pushing her hips off the bed to have some contact with him. He gets her hint, pressing himself down against her, his hardening dick pressing into her pelvis, rubbing against her as she tries to open her legs, his stomach merging with hers as she pushes herself up into him to get some friction, kissing him intensely.

He pulls away for air, kissing quickly to her jawline, then her neck as his hand explores the skin at her collar bone, pushing down night gown to expose her breast, pressing his hand towards it so he can knead it hard. He brushes across her nipple, creating a complete shudder through her whole body; her pelvis is still bucking up towards him, determined to try and create any kind of friction she can get. He tracks his lips further down her neck onto her collar bone, his body moving further down her, no longer straddling her but moving in between her legs to settle himself against her. His teeth skim against her skin as his mouth reaches her breast, kissing and grazing ardently, whilst his fingers satisfies its sister. She can’t do much but lie there, gyrating her pelvis up against his, his new position giving more access; taking in all the glorious sensations he is giving her as she is pinned down.

_She doesn’t want to take control. Yesterday he had been afraid, reticent to take charge, unwilling to take any chances, and here he was now, exploring her confidently, giving into his feelings of passion and fuck was he doing it better than she had ever expected; but she was becoming desperate and he could do with the guidance._

“Roman,” she breathes out, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her arm firm against the back of his head, the other petting his back.

He looks up to her, his eyes boring into hers.

“Please, honey. I need you now,” her voice hoarse with arousal.

**Who knew Gerri Kellman would be begging him for anything? He must be getting this right, and that was a bigger turn on than anything.**

He smirks, moving back up to her mouth, kissing her briefly as he adjusts himself, hovering above her. He pulls back from the kiss, their noses an inch apart when his hand moves down her body, hiking up the hem of her night dress to reach her centre, caressing her clit gently.

**It’s the hottest thing he’s ever seen.**

Watching Gerri as she gasps at his touch, her eyes rolling back into her head, her eyes fluttering closed. He feels her leg hooking around the back of his thigh trying to ground herself, her other stretching out widely to give him more access.

**He could come from this alone, but he needs to hold off.**

“That good?” He asks her as he presses his thumb firmly to her clit, beginning to rotate, his other two fingers exploring further down to spread around the liquid that is already pooling there.

Her eyes jerk open to look at his smug face, “oh, yeah.”

She pulls his head to her, penetrating her tongue into his mouth and warring with it, as her pelvis continues to push rhythmically against his hand. His fingers finally pushing into her, filling her up deliciously.

“Do it now. I can’t stand it. I need you inside me,” she moans against his mouth, breathing heavier.

He can feel himself breathing rapidly also, his arousal peaking as he feels her desperately trying to reach for his hips, pushing his boxers down.

“Fuck Gerri. You’re fucking everything,” he grunts, earning a gasping smile from her. He pulls his hand away from her centre, grasping his dick so he can get into position before her; one of her hands settles on his lower back as the other lies on his shoulder.

He pushes into her with a loud groan, having to stop when he is fully within her, so he doesn’t explode immediately. He had hoped to watch her reaction as he entered, but he couldn’t keep his eyes open, the pleasure too overwhelming.

She feels her arm instinctively tighten around his shoulder, her nails dig into his lower back as she moans at the sensation of him filling her, the intensity radiating through her whole body, her leg hooking around his ass.

“Gerri,” he whispers shakily, his head falling into her neck, kissing sloppily.

“That’s it, Rome,” she encourages panting, her nails raking his neck, pecking his ear. “You’re doing brilliant, baby,” she breathes.

It’s being called that that springs him back into action, his hips moving slowly, his head moving away from her neck so he can study her face each time he slams into her. He watches as her whole body jerks up under him, her hand leaving his shoulder to push against the headboard; her eyes closed, tightening each time he hits that spot within her. Her mouth opening wider with each thrust, a small smile forming each time he pulls out but transforming into pleasure each time he buries himself back in her. The short intake of breath she takes each time he plunges into her is intoxicating, watching as they increase when he begins moving faster within her.

His own arousal is increasing, tethering on the edge as well but he wants her to lose control first.

He moves his hand not supporting him onto her thigh, lifting it higher to change her angle so he can push into her deeper. Her breathing is becoming throatier, her voice slicing through on occasion as she moans.

“Fuck, Gerri. Let go,” he groans out as he stares down at her, sweat forming on his forehead as his hips continue pounding into her.

“Harder, Rome. Fuck,” she grunts, opening her eyes to look at him. Seeing the concentration, the euphoria etched across his face; in his eyes, his open mouth, his gasps.

“Yeah. That good?” he grunts ferociously, leaning up, moving his chest away from her for better leverage, hammering into her harder as he watches her lose control below him.

“That’s it. That’s it. Good god! Fuck Rome!” She plunges her mouth up into his, kissing him with fervour as she tumbles over the edge, her hips meeting his wildly as her thighs tighten, her calves stiffening around him, her heels pushing him on.

He moans loudly into her mouth as he spills into her, slamming his hips erratically into her as she tightens around his throbbing dick, lying her back down as he crushes her, burying his hand under her ass to pull her even closer to him.

He slips out of her, falling onto her chest, her legs unwrapping around him, their kisses becoming softer as he lets go; his chin falling against her shoulder, his forehead buried in the pillow as he tries to catch his breath. He can feel she’s spent too, her chest pushing his up and down just as quickly. He kisses her shoulder as her hand on his lower back trails upward, his arm bending so his hand can fall above her head, caressing her hair.

“Happy not being sacrificed day,” he murmurs into her shoulder, still panting.

She smiles, begins laughing, bringing her hand down from where it rested above her head to his cheek to pull him off her shoulder, pressing her lips back to his lazily as she kisses him softly again, a slower exploration of his mouth now.

“Thank you,” she pecks again, twice, three times, her head falling back onto the pillow as she closes her eyes.

He moves off of her, hoping to make her more comfortable, and lies on the pillow to the side, his arm draped across her stomach.

“Fuck, you’re getting good at that. Not one bit of prompting this time,” she looks around to him appraisingly.

“Thank you, oh wise one. You weren’t so bad yourself,” he smiles back, as she moves her hand down to her stomach, caressing along his forearm.

**Is it too soon? Maybe it’s too soon? He’s going to ask anyway.**

“So, you want to discuss how we are going to explore this?” He asks, watching her.

She bursts out laughing, “fuck Roman, give me a chance to catch my breath,” looking around to him smiling, her chest still heaving.

He smiles, though it doesn’t reach the whole way to his eyes.

**He feels euphoric from doing this with Gerri, which is a long way for him, but he’s afraid. He doesn’t want it to just be this. Just sex. She’s been hinting it wouldn’t be, but he needs to know outright.**

She sees the sadness in his eyes, his unconvincing smile.

“I do want to explore this, Rome. I don’t know what it is, but I do want to explore it. I think I’ve told you how I feel,” she says softly, caressing his arm still.

“Yeah, I know you have. But, do you care about me in like a… I don’t know… fuck buddies sense? Or is it something more?” He looks up at her worried.

_Fuck buddies? She wouldn’t know how to be fuck buddies if she tried. The thought that that he might want that is terrifying._

“Do you want to just be fuck buddies?” She asks, her eyes sceptical.

“No... But, if that’s all you’re willing to give, I would need to take it,” he explains seriously.

“Why would you need to take it?” _She feels confused now._

“Because Gerri,” he begins exasperated, shifting to lie on his stomach as she watches, his body propped up on his elbows, talking to the pillow instead of her. “I need you. I want to be with you. And I will take it whatever way you want to give it.”

She grins, though he doesn’t see it. _Well that was flattering to hear. She fears he’s falling just as hard as she seems to be._

“Well, I don’t want to be fuck buddies,” she tells him firmly, smiling as he looks back at her shocked. “I think I’m a bit too old and wise for that. I would hope it could be something a bit more than that.”

“Really?” He asks her, perking up.

“Yes, Roman. But if we are going to continue this, you’re going to have to stop being so shocked that I’m interested in you. I am interested. We’ve both been dancing around this for a good few months now. I would say we have a pretty good foundation, we like each other, right?” She asks him, an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“We have a good working relationship. We have trust. We enjoy each other’s company. The sex thus far has been great. So, I think we are already a lot further along than we both cared to admit.”

“I mean I asked you to marry me like a month ago, so I don’t know if I was the one not admitting something,” he jokes, giving her a cheeky smile.

She laughs out loud, grasping his hand and threading her fingers through his.

“I think there is something good here. But I think there is also a reality that we do work together so if this all goes to shit, we need to remain professional. It’s your family’s business and I’ve worked too hard to be flung out on my ass because of a failed relationship.”

He scowls, “who said it’s going to fail?”

She rolls her eyes, “no one. It’s not even started yet, Rome. All I’m saying is that in the chance that it does, it needs to remain professional and civil between us after.”

“Are you going to make me put that in writing?” He smirks at her teasingly, taking her hand in between his and kissing it.

“Is that the only way you’ll agree to it?” She raises an eyebrow.

“No, I think that goes without saying. Plus, I think my dad would choose you to stay at Waystar before he chose me to, you’re smarter and more valuable.”

She flutters her eyelashes instead of answering.

“I also think we are in a very precarious situation with your dad and the company, and so on, which makes us both a big target. So, whilst I think we should explore this and perhaps date, I think we need to keep it a secret for now,” she explains, attempting to determine his thoughts on that.

He nods slowly, pondering, “I mean, I would like to shout it from the roof tops, but okay. That’s cool.”

“Oh, Logan, Roman thinks it’s cool,” she jokes, pretending to speak to an invisible Logan across the room and then winking back at him.

He bows his head between his arms, laughing at her imitation of him.

“Roman, I’m serious,” she laughs. “This needs to be taken seriously.”

“I can see how people would think you’re latching onto me for job security or me to you because I’m a moron, so that’s fine.”

“It needs to be kept a secret for now so we can plan for stupid shit like that. But in the meantime, we can see each other and spend more time together, and get to know one another more outside of Waystar. But if there's one thing that's imperative, Rome, is that we need to be honest with one another about everything because it’s a secret.”

“I’m honest with you anyway.”

“Yeah, but you can’t be going in a mood with me or something when you don’t get your way, and then the whole office starts to suspect something. It needs to be open and honest so it can be discussed maturely in private.”

He looks down, a bit worried. **He’s afraid to tell her how obsessive he can be, how easily he can be irrational, but he wants to know. Hopes it won’t scare her off. Hopes it make explain him a bit to her, though he thinks she already gets him.**

“Gerri, I’m going to be honest here. I have a personality disorder? Borderline?” He raises his eyebrows at her, internally panicking.

“I kind of suspected after you joked about it at Shiv’s wedding in your speech. I didn’t know if you were being serious or not, but I looked it up anyway. Sounded a lot like you,” she smiles kindly.

“And it didn’t bother you?”

“No, it said a lot of it comes from childhood trauma. A lot of it being based on a fear of abandonment, causing you to act out, which I understood based on everything I’ve heard and seen through the years. I thought you would share it when you were ready.”

“Yeah…,” he huffs, looking back down to her hand clutched between both of his. “Uhm…It’s not easy. I spent most of my life just thinking I was a disgusting, manipulative fucking human being who didn't deserve any love or affection. Then I found out it was a Personality Disorder and I thought I was a psycho, but turns out I'm not. You're right, it turns out I just act a certain way because of trauma? I’ve had a lot of CBT for it and have come a long way, but I have been known to become obsessive? Like crazy? The therapist said it’s because I’m scared of my girlfriend cheating or giving another person the eye. But I’ve been known to make crazy declarations of love and _marriage_ …,” he looks at her pointedly as she raises her eyebrows.

“… so, I like know they won’t leave… but I also can get easily offended by thing that seem small. Like my fucked-up brain thinks that every time I have a fight with someone that they are going to leave me and I go into this like anxious state, or if they go out to see their friend or family, it’s like I think the other person is better than me and I suck, causing me to get crazy anxious and doing mad shit. I used to be a lot worse. I used to cause a whole fight or have a fit, so they wouldn’t go out with their friend and stay home with me to give me attention.”

He looks at her, panicking as he realises, she is sitting emotionlessly watching him.

**Fuck, he’s said too much. He thought he could be honest. Thought that he could like try and explain it so that she understood if he acted like a fucking asshole. But he’s literally telling her what a fucking psycho he is; telling her what a fucking manipulative cunt he was. What if she ran now because of it though? What if she didn’t want to have anything to do with him because it’s too much to handle. Fuck. He shouldn’t have said anything. Maybe he can backtrack.**

“But I’m not like that now. I don’t want it to put you off.”

“It’s not putting me off,” she interrupts, earning her a sigh of relief from him

“You look like, I don’t know, like you’re not feeling it? Scared maybe?” He’s grimacing, feeling her out.

“Don’t read into things, Rome. I’m listening and processing what you’re telling me. How does it affect you now?” She asks him, squeezing her hand in his for encouragement.

“The thoughts can be intrusive. Like telling me that no one cares about me, that people are going to leave me because I’m a piece of shit, and I’m a horrible human, bla bla. All that shit. They still come, though not as much as they used to. But my ability to rationalise them has become much better. I’m not asking you to baby me or enable me by telling me what I want to hear or anything, well… I mean sometimes I definitely will want you to maybe just telling me I’m being a moron. But I just want to let you know that if I ever fly off the wagon about something that might seem stupid, it might be because I’m freaking out. My therapist suggested I maybe just be more direct about it and ask, so if I ever ask for some clarification directly or for you to tell me I’m pretty, it might just be because I need that reassurance. But if I’m being honest, whilst I didn’t really know if you cared about me, I don’t really doubt what you tell me. You’re pretty honest. You might fail to mention something, but I think we are also pretty direct with each other when we want to be. But, yeah, I just wanted to warn you.”

_She thinks over everything that he’s said and it’s all coming together. The erratic behaviour at times, the back tracking when he thinks he’s taken a step too far, the declarations that were a big extreme. Even the intrusive thoughts of how he perceives himself. She had looked up the berating thing on google on night when she was a bit more drunk than usual, simply curious about why he likes it. She remembers reading about how people can sometimes be the person taking a negative to try turn it into a positive so that it isn’t so harmful. Is that why he gets off on her insulting him? Turning those intrusive thoughts into something he can gain pleasure from. One thing she knows for sure, is that Roman since he was in Turkey is so much more mature and open than she ever imagined; and she can’t deny that it’s not only making things a lot easier, but she also feels extremely proud of his growth._

“I think that’s really mature and brave, Rome,” she offers with a smile, extracting her hand from his to caress his hair and then down to his cheek. “For sharing that with me. Must be scary to put that out on the table when you have something like that. I’m proud of you for that. Thank you for telling me because it means I will be able to keep it in mind.”

He lets out a sigh, “you’re not going to run away now? Don’t think I’m a crazy freak that’s not worth the hassle?”

“Nah,” she smiles. “I think I’ll keep you around,” she jokes, threading a hand back through his, which he clutches and kisses.

“I promise I will keep it a secret. I think it’s lucky that we had already been spending a lot of time together in work anyway. Most people won’t even bat an eyelid to us being seen together.”

“As long as you don’t start flirting and making dirty jokes about me,” she warns, raising an eyebrow.

He looks up at her offended, “Gerri! If I stop making dirty jokes about you, people are going to KNOW we’re fucking.”

She chuckles, remembering the jerk off in Gerri’s bathroom comment, “okay, but don’t take it too far. There is only so many times I can bat you away.”

“Do you find me irresistible, Ms Kellman?” He asks, fluttering his eyelashes.

“No, I find you incessantly annoying,” she jokes.

“Mmm… I don’t think that’s what you screamed five minutes ago. I’m pretty sure it was ‘I need you inside me’ and ‘Harder, Rome. Fuck’,” he fires back at her, with a big winning grin on his face.

“You can’t just bring up what I say in the throes of passion as a defence for everything I hit you with,” she smiles, rubbing her thumb against his hand.

He shuffles towards her, so his face hangs over hers.

“I can,” he pecks her lips, “and I will,” a second peck, the third turning more ardent than intended. He pulls back, caressing his nose against her, as she grins widely.

“So, am I your boyfriend now?” He teases.

“Good god,” she smiles, closing her eyes for a moment, and then opening them again to look at him.

“Don’t like that? Your lover? Your partner? Your companion? Your escort? Your sex slave?”

She pulls a thoughtful face, “I don’t know if there is a name for a man who is dating a woman twenty years his senior? But, do you see what I mean by incessantly annoying?” She grins then, reaching up, pecking his lips again.

“Mmm… the jury is out,” he pecks her lips right back, shifting back over to his side, lying on his back, taking her hand.

“Well what would you call me?” She asks curiously.

“Don’t know. Don’t care. Probably girlfriend, because that’s what it is basically. But whatever you’re comfortable with. I’m fine just calling you Gerri.”

_Partner, maybe? It seems so formal when you’re just starting to explore. Boyfriend seems so adolescent. What do older men call their younger girlfriends? Well, girlfriends, she supposes. Maybe it should be boyfriend?_

“Girlfriend is fine,” she determines, smiling at him, rubbing her thumb against his hand.

“Not like I’m gonna be introducing you as it for a while anyway,” he lifts her hand, kissing the back of it.

“Good answer,” she laughs.

“See, I listen,” he smiles looking at their hands resting on his stomach.

They remain silent for a while, and he can’t help but pick up on something she had said.

“Does the age thing really bother you?” He asks her seriously, lifting their hands and twisting them so he can study hers.

“Does it not bother you?” She fires back.

“Mmm… no,” he answers simply, trailing the finger of his other hand down a vein on the back of her hand.

She sighs deeply, thinking about it, “it doesn’t hugely bother me specifically. In a general sense I understand that you are attracted to and like who you like. That it doesn’t come with an age limit. My opinion has always been if it works it works. I’ve seen Frank with younger women, some of which are actually really nice. But I also know it comes with its heartache. A lot of the time, it’s due to being at different stages of your life. The older person will reach retirement age when the other is just at the peak of their career; the older person wants to enjoy peace and quiet, whilst the younger wants to start a family.”

“I don’t want kids. Never have,” he interrupts her, telling her seriously, his examination of her hand interrupted.

“Well, that’s a relief considering I definitely couldn’t give you any,” she laughs. “But how do you know that you wouldn’t change your mind? You think your dad will be okay with you not producing an heir?” She raises her eyebrows at him as he drops their joint hand to his stomach.

“I think I am an adult who can make my own fucking decisions and if my dad really thinks about it, he knows I’m not exactly the daddy type,” he retorts with his eyebrows raised in defiance.

“I think you would have been a great dad. You would be a lot of fun,” she smiles.

“Gerri. Have you seen me with children? Their stickiness and winging and bleugh. No. Absolutely not. No, thank you.”

She laughs, looking across the room absently.

He continues as she remains silent, “and retirement. When it comes to you and me? If this lasts the long haul? Retire whenever the fuck you want. I will likely join you, it’s not like I need the money.”

“But Roman, you have so much potential. You could be a great CEO one day,” she tells him seriously, looking around to him.

“Yeah, I could. But the whole company could be fucked in the next few years. So, we will cross that bridge _if_ we come to it. Are you planning on retiring any time soon?”

“Not unless your dad forcibly removes me,” she answers seriously.

“Okay, so it’s nothing to even consider right now. If it comes down to it. If you wanted to retire and I for some reason had an absolute hard on for being the CEO, then we would work it out. I could come see you if you travelled, we could vacation, I could work from home. I don’t know what. But it’s definitely not something to consider right now.”

_She thinks he’s mad if he thinks he would ever be able to be a part time CEO if she retired. Though she supposes Logan drags them on crazy trips several times a year, so why couldn’t he? But he was right. It was definitely too early to be discussing this._

“So, come on. What else is worrying that brilliant mind of yours with the age thing?” He asks her, looking at her pointedly, bringing her hand up to his mouth so he can caress the back with his lips.

“Well, there is a lot of outside judgement, which only bothers me a little,” she smiles at the tickling on her hand as she looks at him.

“Why does it bother you what people think? You’re a bad assed bitch. You could take anyone on,” his eyebrows furrowing at her.

“I’m a very private person, Rome. I have spent my whole life deliberately blending in so that I could analyse and pounce when I needed to. I prefer to be underestimated. I went through a lot of shit over the years being a woman in this profession. People coming onto me, degrading me, telling me that it wasn’t my world. I had to learn how to keep up with the shots, go to strip bars, go hunting, and so on, just to try and blend in and be one of the guys. When your older and you date someone younger, you stick out, especially if you’re a woman. You’re judged much harder. You’re a cougar. A milf. And whatever else fucking term you want to call it. It’s degrading. Like the only reason you’re in it is for the sex, instead of actually being a human being who likes someone,” she explains to him, opening up more than she usually does.

“Fuck them. If anyone wants to try that shit, I will fight them,” he says angrily.

“But that’s the point. You wouldn’t have to do that if you just dated someone your own age,” she explains. “You would just blend into the background.”

“Well, the way I see it. It’s no different than loads of other relationships that people perceive as mismatched. Look at Con and Willa? How much judgement have they got because she’s a call girl, but you know what, it’s been a good year now and they actually seem happy. She seems to actually like him a bit. But dating someone your own age? How about me? Me going out with someone who looks like a fucking model? How many girl’s parents do you think have been judgemental when I have walked in, half their height, looking like a scrawny teenager, with a filthy mouth? Or how about the girls with me? When they got looks for only being with me because I had money. Being called sluts, gold diggers? No one believing that I could ever be with someone because they like me but only because they are out for my family fortune? Imagine the kind of girl I would need to be with for everyone to be satisfied. She would have to be exactly the same as me: same money, same look, same height or smaller, same humour, same attractiveness. Now how fucking disastrous would that be?”

“That would be shambolic,” she smiles, pondering his point.

“You think I would be happy? Being with someone as neurotic as me? And even in that, how much do you want to bet that they would just bitch that I needed someone who was grounding, who could control and settle me?” He raises his eyebrows at her, earning a twitch in agreement from her; a go ahead for him to pipe up again.

“Let me ask you this. I don’t know how alike you and Baird were, but can you imagine now, being with someone exactly like you? Same age, same personality, workaholic, enjoys everything you love. Maybe it’s just me but I find that a little boring and I don’t know… suffocating. Like if you like reading, you both just sit and read for the rest of your life in complete silence. You both love to work, so both of you keep working, without anyone to encourage you to leave early so you can go home and fuck. You both go and do every single activity with each other, so you can never go and just do something you enjoy by yourself. Always being with one another doing the same things together over and over. No one with a different interest that is ready for you to discover, because the person you loved wanted to show it to you? Always watching the same TV shows, never finding out if there was something different you might enjoy?”

_She thinks back to her relationship with Baird. How it was often their differences that did make it work. How she was left to her own devices to enjoy the things she did, and he went to do what he enjoyed. She thinks about how they would come together to enjoy the things they liked to do together. And it was true, you don’t want someone who is an exact replica of yourself. But she also thinks of their similarities, about how both of them were too focussed on work, their children a secondary thought in both of their lives causing so much heart ache. Both of them inherently selfish when it came to a career. But she also thinks about how she never wanted children, and the concession she gave to Baird because he did. And yet here she was convinced that Roman would want to be a father one day when he was categorically telling her he didn’t. You had to have a balance of the right similarities and the right differences._

“You’re right,” she agrees, rubbing her thumb against his.

“Look all I’m saying is yeah I’m twenty years younger. But you might bring a grounding to my life that I’ve always needed, a maturity that I never was able to learn, a calmness so that one day I might sit down and read a book. Hell, maybe you’re gonna bring Diana Ross into my life with your disco music and I will never have known what I was missing. And maybe, I will be able to bring something into yours as well. A bit of juvenile fucking around, forcing you to leave the office so I can fuck your brains out because yes, I was absolutely referring to that being a reality with us when I said it. Maybe I can bring something that you never knew you needed, and everyone else will be wrong.”

“You do bring something to my life. I told you already you’ve brought me a lot of happiness and laughter,” she looks into his eyes seriously, afraid she thought he didn’t believe her.

“Yeah and I’m glad I do, and I hope I will continue to do it. But if you’re looking for a judgment free relationship, you’re gonna struggle for the rest of your life. Some people judge others for the girl being fat and the guy being thin; some judge for the wife being a housewife and not having a career whilst the husband travels for business; some judge for the dad staying at home with the kids because he’s whipped whilst the wife goes out and becomes the CEO. There are plenty of judgements out there. This isn’t an argument in favour of Roman Roy, but you could go out there and look for a guy your own age and everyone would be so excited for you and you would blend into the background as the perfect vanilla couple, but you might not actually be happy because he could be a boring cunt who can’t get it up, and I assure you, whilst I am a lot of things, I am not that. You might hang out with me and have the time of your life and be happy, or you might down the line come to realise I’m just too fucked up and immature for you, but there would be no more or less of a chance because of my age,” he finishes with a wide smile.

_He was absolutely right. He had brought so much light into her life. She had always felt like she lost a little bit of herself after joining Waystar and marrying Baird. Her independence in the things she pursued herself only got her so far. She loved Baird but he wasn’t an exciting man. He was grounding, kind, caring, but he wasn’t exciting. She felt like before Baird she was exciting, exploratory. However, she gave up a lot of that to live the corporate life and attempting to provide the nuclear family. She didn’t lose it because of Baird, but rather because she thought it was what she was supposed to do. Rome had reinvigorated that girl she felt she used to be. That excitement he had about exploring everything. She was sure if she told him she wanted to go travelling around the world for a year, like she always had wanted to, he would jump at the chance; Baird would have come up with several logical and practical excuses not to, compromising on a trip to one of the places each year perhaps. Roman had adventure, just as she used to have which she could feel it coming back into her. And the thought of that is exhilarating._

“I never thought about it like that. I never had to,” she leans forward, kissing him softly, as she holds his jaw. “People always judged Baird and I because I didn’t stay home like the good little wife. There is no escaping people’s judgement so fuck them,” she smiles, pecking his lips again before sitting back.

“Good. I’m looking forward to finding out shit about you. The things in common and the things that are different.”

“Yeah, I can imagine you found out plenty when you went snooping through my tablet,” she smiles, attempting a joke after the seriousness of the conversation. _Knowing he found absolutely fuck all._

He looks around to her. **She didn’t look mad.**

“Couldn’t help it. Are you angry?”

“No, there is nothing on there to find,” she chuckles. “Work tablet. I’m not stupid. But in future I would appreciate you not going through my things.”

“Ahh, Ms Kellman… you would be surprised!” He laughs.

“What? What did you find?” She shifts onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow, her eyebrows furrowed.

“You just need to know where to look,” he smiles, noting her interest, happy to continue teasing her.

“Tell me,” she lets go of his hand, punching his arm.

“Ow,” he rubs his arm, looking at her shocked. “Some strength, Kellman”

“Roman,” she says seriously, her best authoritarian voice on.

**That had always scared him.**

“Ok, but don’t get mad,” he starts, looking at her.

She raises her eyebrows. _What does she have to get mad about? There was nothing on there._

“Well… I might have looked at your internet history, mainly to see if you searched for porn,” he smiles, a small nervous chuckle bursting from his mouth as her eyebrows rise higher.

“Uhu…,” she droans, her eyes narrowing.

“Not that I found that,” he clarifies.

“Obviously,” she confirms.

“But I saw all the searches from last week… when I was in Turkey,” he divulges, looking at her apprehensively.

“Right,” she sighs, looking down at the bed cover, her nail scraping the bed sheet between them.

_She didn’t want to have to rethink those moments._

“It seemed pretty frantic. Searching the news and my name every few minutes. It came across pretty worried. Maybe I’m wrong, of course, maybe it was just in a work capacity,” he explores, watching her behaviour.

“No, that’s pretty spot on. It was frantic,” she murmurs.

“I didn’t even ask you about it when I was talking about it the other night.”

She looks up at him, ceasing the tracing of her hand.

_She didn’t want to go back into this. Didn’t want to have to relive it. She feels like she’s already been very open with him today; divulging way more than she usually would. But she sees his puppy dog eyes. She doesn’t know if it’s reassurance he’s looking for. Or perhaps he’s trying to offer her some comfort in return as she had the other night. However, he had been honest with her the other night of his fears, she had to try and be more open about hers._

“It was pretty terrifying, Roman. I had the news on my phone all day in the war room in DC, then back at the hotel, I refused to leave my room, just sitting watching it on the TV whilst I frantically searched for any news articles on other news sites into the early hours of the morning. The news changed every hour. One minute it was a terrorist threat, reports of gun shots, then reports of casualties, rumours of fatalities. I felt sick to my stomach, thinking you’d been hurt or killed. Knowing you were a complete idiot who usually couldn’t keep your mouth shut when you should; that you would probably try and charm them or offer them a blowjob and make yourself a target. Just the thought of all the things that could have happened after me being the one to suggest you get the white knight was overwhelming. I was so afraid; it really made me admit to myself how much I really cared for you. Made me realise you only get one life, so you need to take chances and go for what you want,” she reveals quietly, looking up at him.

“I mean, it’s kind of sick but I’m flattered,” he smiles, taking her hand back and lifting it to his lips again.

She scoffs, looking at him still, “I didn’t eat or sleep until I found out you were safe and unharmed. Felt completely helpless. Considered breaking into the White House to try and get them to send a detail to get you out of there. Considered getting on a plane myself to come get you.”

“Gerri Kellman vs. Turkish terrorists, a movie I would definitely purchase instead of illegally stream so I could watch it on repeat in high quality HD,” he smiles, though quickly changes as he sees that she is serious. “Looks like I wasn’t the only one affected by it.”

“No,” she whispers, “not quite. Though your sleeping does seem better.”

“Not hard to sleep when you’re here to soothe me. No pressure of course.”

“No, of course not,” she offers a small smile. “Anyway, you’re here now. I don’t want to think about it again. Life’s too short. Need to live it,” she leans over to peck his lips again, shaking her head as she returns to her perch next to him.

_She had to change the subject. She would end up teary again if she went back to the emotions of that day._

“So, what else did you find when invading my privacy?”

“Your Spotify was revealing,” he smiles, threading his fingers through the hand he held.

“My Spotify? So, you discovered my desire to listen to disco music, which I already told you about yesterday?”

“Noo, I also discovered a _Motown Classics_ playlist and _Mom’s playlist_ too,” he adds, smiling knowingly.

“Yeah, so? I like Motown, and Charlotte made me a playlist of songs she knows I like. I’ve not even looked at it,” she confirms, eying him suspiciously.

He chuckles a little, “well, your kid put an array of good songs on it. Fleetwood Mac, Heart, Stevie Nicks.”

“Yeah.”

“Didn’t know you were a little rock chick?” He teases.

“Who doesn’t like all of them?” Her face scrunching quizzically.

“Then there was Kylie Minogue, Madonna,” he smiles, knowing he’s about to get to the good ones.

“So what? I like 80’s music,” she fires back defensively.

“Then there was Pitbull,” he confirms.

“Who the fuck is Pitbull?”

He laughs even harder, “you know the song ‘Fireball’? Sounds like a Zumba song.”

She shakes her head, confused, pursing her lips.

“You know,” he says before he starts humming the song. She listens along, trying to identify it, her eyes closing so she can focus on his voice.

“Oh, that one! Well it’s catchy,” she says nonchalantly, dismissing his teasing.

“Then, my absolute favourite. At the very bottom of the list. Gary Glitter,” he offers, looking directly at her, waiting for her answer expectantly.

“Yeah, and?” Her face completely unmoving.

“And? AND? He’s a sex offender!” Romans voice shouts, raising an octave.

“Yeah. So?” She still answers unwavering.

“So? You think it’s okay to be a sex offender?” He asks her shocked.

“Of course not! But music is music. I don’t listen to his music because I like him. I listen to it because I like the beat. I’ve liked some of his songs long before any of that. You don’t just stop liking a song because of who the artist is. Plus, he doesn’t own his music anymore, some studio does. I think it’s Universal or something. I remember reading it somewhere. The money doesn’t go to him when it’s played,” she explains calmly, not embarrassed at all.

**She had a point. He just thought it had been funny.**

“I mean, I played the song and I liked it too. I just didn’t know it was by Gary Glitter,” he smiles.

“You rotten like snake. Giving me a hard time about it when you like it as well,” she laughs with some bite, poking his chest with her free hand.

He chuckles, his voice going high.

**He could get used to this.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be clear, the information on Borderline Personality Disorder literally just comes from my own experience of it. As someone who has it and had no idea what it was for several years, acting erratically and manipulative, and not understanding why until many years later, everything discussed here is just my own personal experience with it and what I picked up over the years of how to handle it whilst googling it when I figured out that's what I had and what little we covered with it in my Psychology degree. Every person's symptoms can be different, as can be their treatment though - so this information isn't resolute. If anyone wants to ask anything about it, maybe identifying themselves with some of the symptoms, I'm on Tumblr @lucylovesmemore, if you want some more information, though you can likely get that from Google.  
> But from everything I always imagined with Roman, it sounds similar so I was shocked to have a little confirmation in the 1x10 episode when he mentions it in the speech. For the record, the 'I don't feel anything' in that episode has not been my experience with Borderline at all. My experience is that you feel too much, with your behaviours becoming so obsessive that you don't have any idea why you are like that, until it's spelled out for you. However, Roman being obsessive and manipulative is something I could see him doing so... it's fitting.  
> I haven't had a lot of feedback, so no idea if anyone agrees or disagrees with this portrayal. I simply see a lot of myself in both Gerri and Roman. I feel like I am Gerri in my worklife, always on it, with people thinking I'm a competent bitch, but actually, I'm a sweetheart in personal life. Whilst Roman is just my neurotic self, pre me figuring out my shit. So everything I've tried to put across is literally based on me.  
> Anyway, this isn't going to last much longer, so I hope you are all enjoying it. I discovered writing maybe 4 months ago, in the middle of lockdown. I had read fanfiction for over 10 years, creating it in my head every night so I could sleep, but was always too afraid to write it because I thought I was shit at writing. I don't think I'm good at it, but it's so cathartic to get it out on my head and into a word document. If that brings just one person something to enjoy or distract from this crazy world we live in, then I'm glad. I am also so amazed by the brilliant writing in this fandom, it's some of the best I've ever seen. I'm also astounded to see how many people are on the same wavelength of how these characters really would be. So many times I've written published something and went back to read someone else's fanfiction published months ago and there is a lot of the same ideas. It's great to see so many talented people invested in these characters and their dynamics, so thank you for sharing it. It brings a lot of light into my little Scottish world :)


	13. Come play with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts of Gerri in italics.  
> Thoughts of Roman in bold.

She had sent him back to his cabin when she had been able to extract herself from her bed before breakfast, having some tranquillity but still buzzing from this morning whilst she had showered and dressed.

He had shown up to breakfast first, curling his lip angrily as he seen his father already seated at the head of the table.

**He wasn’t ready to see his father; speak to his father. He was still bitter about him choosing Kendall as the sacrifice. He thought the best move was to stay away from him, whilst he let his anger abate. Afterall, his dad had made him COO and he didn’t want that ripped away, so he would do the one thing he never did; stay silent.**

He notices that Gerri isn't here yet. Wambsgans also MIA. Frank seated next to Logan, with Karl next to him. On the other side of Logan is a sad looking Shiv, with Tom nowhere to be seen. Willa and Connor were roaming around selecting a final few pieces for their overloaded plates, as he picks up an empty one, beginning to peruse the spread.

“Where’s Tom?” He hears Connor asking Shiv. He looks over his shoulder as he grabs a croissant, watching as Connor leaves an empty chair between himself and Shiv.

Shiv throws him daggers, not feigning any kind of smile.

“Sleeping in,” she responds curtly.

Roman pulls a face, going back to filling his plate.

**He had worked up an appetite from this morning and was ready to feast; who gave a shit about Shiv’s crap. He tried to help last night but clearly she hadn’t listened.**

He looks around, ready to sit down and looks at his two options.

**Willa or Karl? Fuck… shit choices. He supposes Karl won’t speak to him, too involved in kissing his dad’s ass, whilst Willa would bitch about something mundane.**

So, he takes his seat next to Karl, as Gerri enters from inside.

“Good morning,” he hears her say lightly.

“Morning,” a select few grunt, barely paying her any attention as they continue to their consumption and conversation.

“Good morning,” he responds lightly with a smirk as he takes his seat, taking a sip of juice.

He’s shocked when she takes a seat next to him, delicately pulling out her napkin and settling it on her lap.

**He thought she would have attempted to keep the distance, not draw attention.**

But when he looks up, no one is paying attention. **He supposes this actually isn’t that unusual.**

“What did I miss?” She whispers to him, after requesting a cup of coffee from the server behind her.

“Nothing. Tom’s sleeping in,” he says raising his eyebrows, knowing that she would also think it revealing after he had told her this morning what Shiv had told him last night.

She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t comment as Logan speaks up.

“Okay, okay. So, now that you’re all here”, he looks at Gerri for a moment and then to the rest of the table. “I just wanted to update you all.”

“Wait, all here? Where’s Greg?” Connor asks confused.

“Greg is accompanying Kendall to New York, where he will give a press conference tonight. It’s set to be at 1pm EST, so broadcasting 7pm here. We are due to dock tomorrow morning and fly out to NYC immediately after, so be ready to leave at 10am. It’s going to be a palaver immediately after, so I suggest you enjoy your last day. We could be in this for the foreseeable. Gerri, I assume you’ve been in touch with Karolina and have everything set up to go ahead as planned?” He asks pointedly.

“Absolutely,” Gerri responds, clutching her chest after forcing down the coffee that was in her mouth, it burning as it travels through her body. “I spoke to her before I came up here. Everything is ready, she’s been working through the night. All of the press we invited have confirmed their attendance; Kendall and Greg have already left the airport and she’s sent him the press statement, so it looks like it’s going to go smoothly.”

Roman smirks as he lifts his glass of juice, sipping it.

**He thinks his dad was trying to catch her out; little does he know that Gerri is always several steps ahead of everyone.**

“Peachy,” Logan retorts sarcastically, looking around to Frank.

“You spoke to Ken this morning?”

“Yeah,” Frank pipes up. “He seemed fine. Confident.”

“Good,” Logan breathes.

The rest of the breakfast continues with general chatter; Willa and Connor discussing their plans to take the boat out today and go to one of the surrounding Capes that Shiv and Tom had been investigating yesterday. Roman grimacing as Connor continues to make suggestive jokes about what they will be doing when they are out there.

Logan is the first to get up and leave, declaring that he would see them all at lunch, not waiting for a response as he storms out.

Karl looks to Frank, raising his eyebrows, “bar?”

Frank shrugging as they both get up to leave next. Shiv getting up without a word and storming out as Willa and Connor continue to discuss the possible places.

“What are you doing today?” Roman asks Gerri, taking a piece of his croissant.

“I’m going to get a head start on possible defences for Kendall, maybe work on trying to figure out exactly what they are going to try and charge him with,” she answers, taking another sip of her coffee.

He frowns.

“What about you?” She asks kindly.

He shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe mess about in the pool. Rubber ring and some scotch… what more can you ask for?”

She smiles, as Connor and Willa get up, walking out of the room still deep in their bickering of the possible destinations.

Roman watches them deliberately, waiting for the moment they step over the threshold.

“Come do you work by the pool,” he suggests dropping his hand under the table, caressing her leg. She darts her eyes around, ensuring no one has seen and swipes his hand away from her knee.

“Don’t be stupid. Someone could walk up those stairs at any moment and see right underneath this table,” she whispers furiously.

He groans placing his elbows on the table, ignoring her admonishment.

“Fuck work,” he whines. “Come hang out with me.”

“I’ve got a lot to do, Rome. I need to prepare. The shit’s going to hit the fan in 10 hours. I will be bombarded with e-mails at that point,” her voice softening.

_She wishes she could just chill out by the pool, but there was too much to do. Too much at stake. Not only is it her job, what she loves to do, but it’s for his sake as well; so, she can reduce the impact for Kendall._

“I know. That’s why I would rather hang out with you now. Who knows when we’ll be able to again? You heard the old man,” he pleads annoyingly. “Relax,” his best Sean Connery impersonation on offer.

She smirks, sitting back in her seat, picking her napkin off her lap and setting it on the table as she pushes her chair out.

“Come on,” he says desperately. “I will even play your shitty disco music by the pool,” he offers raising his eyebrows enticingly.

“Maybe later on. Let me get a bit done for now and I’ll maybe catch up with you later,” she smiles kindly, pushing her chair in, grasping the back of it as she looks down at him still seated, now twisted towards her.

He rolls his eyes, making a loud snoring noise.

“Basic bitch. Where’s your sense of fun?” He’s smiling, knowing that she’s beginning to falter.

“Yeah, a basic bitch who gets paid a hell of a lot to be one and get all of your family out of trouble,” she challenges back.

“Just bring your shit out to the pool with you,” he starts again.

“Yeah, because you’re going to let me concentrate and work in silence?” She asks sarcastically, her nails drumming on the chair back.

“Mmm… yeah I will…”

She rolls her eyes, “let me get some work done this morning, then I will come out later on, okay?”

“Ugh, fine!” He groans, pushing his seat up and getting up also, following her as she leads the way out.

“And I’ll hold you to playing the disco…”

***

She works diligently in her cabin for a most of the morning, making a huge dent in the work she knew was due to come. However, a few hours later, there is a spike in text messages, the room having received a bout of signal.

**_Roman Roy: Bring a bathing suit. I want to see how hot you look in it._ **

****

**_Roman Roy: Don’t forget your sunblock. Wouldn’t want you burning._ **

****

**_Roman Roy: Leave your vanilla book in your cabin. I want your full attention since you’ve abandoned me._ **

****

**_Roman Roy: Come play with meeeeeee. Frank and Karl are boringggggg._ **

****

**_Roman Roy: Karl’s keeps moaning for a turn of my fucking rubber ring. I think he’s plotting to steal it. I’m ready to end him. Make sure you post bail._ **

****

**_Roman Roy: Can I drown Frank? Would anyone notice?_ **

****

**_Roman Roy: Ohhhhhhh Shiv’s off plotting with dad and Tom’s sitting pathetically at the bar._ **

****

**_Roman Roy: He’s just ordered 4 Tequila shots. Send help._ **

****

**_Roman Roy: No seriously, Gerri. I think he’s going to cry._ **

****

**_Roman Roy: Omg. Hurry up._ **

****

She smiles, looking down at the messages. There are no time stamps on them, all of them reading the current time. _God knows how long this had been going on for._

She looks down at her laptop, determining that she’s done enough as she gets up and changes into her black BIBA bathing suit, throwing a printed floaty kaftan over the top of it so she wasn’t too exposed.

She arrives at the pool, stopping short of making herself known as she takes in the scene before her. _She doesn’t know what she expected but it wasn’t this._

Frank is sitting at the side of the pool in his swimming shorts with his legs dipped in as he laughs watching Karl floating on the surface of the pool in what she can only guess is Roman’s rubber ring; since Roman is standing at the edge of the pool with his hands on his hips, cursing at Karl.

“You have 3 seconds to get off my rubber ring, dick cheese, or I’m going to fucking drown you!”

Karl ignores him, taking a sip of his drink and relaxing his head against the back of the rubber ring with a sigh, whilst Frank chuckles at the side. She finally notices Tom passed out on a lounger by the pool, three empty glasses next to him on the ground.

Roman turns briefly, spotting Gerri.

_The jig is up._

“Thank fuck. GERRI!” He shouts as she smiles, clutching onto her book, glad that her sunglasses hide her eyeroll at being a participant now, instead of a spectator.

“MAKE HIM GIVE ME MY RUBBER RING BACK!” Roman shouts, pointing at Karl.

“Snooze you lose,” Karl says smoothly behind a grin.

“I was getting a drink you decrepit fucking Ass Goblin!”

“Roman…,” Gerri says warningly, seeing how heated he is getting, though she tries and fails to hide her smirk, as she watches Roman roll his eyes and down his drink, slamming it on a table by the lounger behind him.

“Let him have a turn, Roman,” Frank intervenes, attempting to play the role of peacemaker.

“IT’S MY RUBBER RING!” Roman shouts indignantly.

Both Frank and Karl looking to each other now and chuckling.

“You know what? I’ll make you a deal,” Karl calmly reasons. “You beat me at water volleyball and I’ll give you it back.”

“Beat you?” Roman scoffs. “I’ll fucking annihilate you!”

Karl smirks as Frank starts laughing, whilst Roman looks around to Gerri who stands shaking her head.

“Make it doubles! I get Gerri, you get fuck face over there,” he swipes the air towards Frank.

“Deal,” Karl smiles, whilst Frank laughs, shrugging.

“Oh, fuck off!” Gerri protests. “How the fuck did I get dragged into this?”

“Calm down,” Roman soothes walking towards her. “We’re gonna eviscerate them. Rockstar and the Molewoman!” He declares confidently, smiling broadly and holding his hand up for a high five.

She rolls her eyes, ignoring his gesture, turning towards the bar, “I need a drink.”

“What the fuck? Don’t leave me hanging!” Roman shouts after her.

“Looks like the rubber ring’s gonna be safe under my ass!” Karl shouts from the pool, laughing heartily.

Gerri hears this, silently turning on her heel, and taking a few steps towards the pool until she’s next to Roman, staring sharply at Karl in the pool.

“Get the fucking beach ball,” she orders Roman.

“Fuck yeah!” Roman cheers, punching the air.

“You up for it then, Gerri?” Frank asks impressed, laughing lightly.

“Looks like it,” she responds defiantly.

“We’re gonna win,” she hears Karl comment to Frank.

“Oh yeah. You’re so sure of that?” She goads Karl.

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Then let’s up the stakes. Winners get the pool until dinner time. Losers need to serve them drinks for the rest of the day?” She raises her eyebrows challengingly.

Roman starts laughing next to her, looking between her and the two stooges in the pool.

“Oh my god, yeah! Frank can be my bitch and Karl can be Gerri’s!”

“Oh, I don’t know about that…” Karl wavers.

“What, Karl? Not so confident anymore? Afraid?” She fake pouts towards him.

Karl looks to Frank, who shrugs.

“Okay, fine,” Frank agrees, shaking his head.

“Fine,” Karl mutters.

“I like my scotch on the rocks, Roman,” Frank shouts to Roman.

“Hope the server remembers that for when you need to go and order it yourself.”

“What the fuck did you get me into?” She hears Frank mumble to Karl, a smirk falling on her face.

She turns around with conviction towards the bar, “Vodka martini,” she instructs the attendant.

“Make it two,” she adds, holding up two fingers, as Roman watches in awe.

“YOU TWO ARE FUCKED!” He shouts excitedly, laughing manically.

“Roman…”

He looks at her expectantly.

“The ball…,” she reminds him.

He gasps and runs off to get the ball as she downs one of the martinis, carrying the other to the side table whilst he returns with the ball and a little net. She sips her martini as Karl throws the rubber ring out of the pool; Roman throwing the net to Frank.

“Set it up peasant!” Roman declares in an authoritative English accent.

He then throws the ball up in the air, spiking it in the direction of the pool, and watching at is smacks off Karl’s head; unable to stop the hysterical laughter that takes over his whole body.

“No foul play!” Karl shouts, pointing at Roman as he wades through the water to collect it.

“That’s for hijacking my rubber ring!” Roman shouts chuckling as he looks around to Gerri who is setting down her martini next to a lounger, delicately hiding it so it won’t smash. He smiles before running and cannonballing into the water, splashing everywhere.

Frank has the net set up as Gerri whips off her kaftan over her head, tying her hair up high on her head, her sunglasses masking her face.

“Oh my god! She’s tying her hair up!” Roman shouts delighted, “you guys are so fucked. It’s on like Donkey Kong!”

Gerri sits down onto the edge of pool, jumping in elegantly to protect her hair from becoming wet as both Karl and Frank start to get into position.

“What’s the rules?” Karl asks.

Gerri smirks as an idea comes to her head.

“I would like a strategy meeting with my partner,” she declares forcefully, turning her back to Karl and Frank, and wading towards Roman.

Roman sees their opponent’s eyebrows rise over their sunglasses, smirking as Gerri comes towards him.

“Okay, you’re right-handed, right?” She asks him conspiratorially.

“Uhm… yeah.”

“How’s your backhand?”

“Ehm... It’s okay. Took lessons as a kid but it’s been a while.”

“Okay,” she whispers, looking over her shoulder, watching as Karl and Frank shrug at each other, shaking their heads, whilst she notices that Karl is to their right.

“Excellent,” she smirks as she turns back to Roman.

Roman looks over her shoulder, trying to figure out what the fuck has her so happy.

“… what?” He asks confused.

She takes his arm, turning him around so that Karl and Frank can’t see their conversation.

“Karl has a shit back hand, mine is impeccable. So, I’ll take the left area of our side, hit to Karl’s left hand, he’ll either hit it pathetically or out of the perimeter.”

“You evil fucking genius,” Roman whispers in awe.

“If you’re going for a ball, you call it. Communication is key. I don’t want to leave here with a black eye because you didn’t call it. And I’ll stay frontish, you stay backish, so make sure you hit the ball hard so it goes over the net, but not so hard that it leaves the whole pool,” she instructs.

“Agreed.”

“Also, look over your shoulder at them.”

“Now?” His eyebrows rise.

“Yeah,” she whispers.

He looks over his shoulder, starts laughing at their impatience and worried looks.

“They’re getting psyched out just by the idea of us having a plan, so keep referring to it. They are freaking out because we are being so serious, just like I knew they would,” she grins.

He laughs a little, “you’re like a fuckin’ Disney Villain and I’m so fucking into it.”

She spins around quickly, smile gone, game face on.

“Ok, so rules. First to ten. It can’t leave the perimeter of the pool, and you only get one hit on each team when it’s on your side. It must go over the net after one hit and you can’t get out of the pool unless agreed to get the ball, a drink, or use the bathroom. If it hits the edge of the pool and bounces back in before you hit it, you can continue your shot, if it hits the edge on your side when you’ve already hit it, it’s the other teams point. Four serves each side, then switch. No body shots. Don’t be a child and over hit it so hard that it ends up in the sea. Sound fair?”

Karl’s eyes are wide at how focused she had rhymed off the rules; Frank however simply shrugs.

“Yup.”

“And no crying little girly tears, Karl,” Roman smiles, wading a little further back closer to the rear as Gerri smiles.

“Can we get started now?” Karl moans pointedly.

“Wait… wait a minute,” Roman announces seriously, as Frank and Karl huff, relaxing their stances.

“Gerri!” He shouts as she looks back over her shoulder at him.

“Is the manoeuvre after the first or second hit?” He asks seriously.

She smiles at him following her plan.

“Roman,” she pretends to chide for giving up their secrets as she turns back to look at their opponents, her face stoic, then looks back over her shoulder to him. She hides her hand behind her body, feigning a secret message, though she simply gives him a thumbs up.

“Got it,” he says seriously, turning his attention back to the game. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Karl throws the ball up, hitting it over the net, it floating through the sky to Roman as he hits it back, it just going over the net as Karl and Frank both splash forward, Frank reaching it first and tapping it to Gerri with his left hand as she punches it hard in the air, over their heads, watching them as they both try half swim, half run to the back of the pool to hit it. Karl reaching it and hitting it back, the shot falling just short of going over the net.

“One – Nil,” Gerri declares plainly, as Roman moves over to her.

“I think we should do a pretend strategy whisper between each shot, tap hands to show solidarity like the Williams sisters do. To psyche them out,” he whispers quickly to her.

“Good plan,” she says loudly, holding out her hand for him to tap, before going back to her position.

“Karl’s serve,” she shouts to Frank, who is holding the ball.

“Why?” He fires back.

“Karl for 4, Roman for 4, you for 4, me for 4. That’s the rules,” she says obviously, as Roman snorts behind her.

Frank throws the inflatable ball to Karl as he shakes his head.

_She knows that Frank knows Karl is the weak link. He’s shown his hand there. He will go for nearly every ball now._

Karl throws the ball up for a second time and hits it over the net again, however, Gerri jumps up quickly and spikes it hard into the water on the other side of the net.

“Two – Nil,” she states.

Karl groans, looking worriedly at Frank who wipes his brow.

She wades to Roman, him meeting her half-way completely stunned.

They tap hands as he leans into her ear to whisper, covering his mouth over like he’s seen watching the US Open, “I want to fuck you so hard right now.”

She raises her eyebrows with a smirk and spins around, moving back to her space.

Karl throws the ball up again, hitting it over, Gerri hitting it back to him quickly, whilst he hits the ball too hard back, it going way out, not even touching the water, hitting the loungers.

“Three – nil. Roman grab the ball,” she orders, as he jumps up on the side, padding to the loungers and grabs it, jumping quickly back in.

“Fuck Karl. Can you get it together,” she hears Frank growl, hitting Roman’s hand after he punches the ball back over.

“Doing well, huh?” He whispers as she moves back to her space.

Karl throws the ball up again, hitting the ball towards Roman who hits it back high, wading in closer to the middle, as Frank hits it back again to Roman, who jumps up and spikes it hard between them, both members of the opponent team looking to each other whilst staying still.

“Yes!” Roman shouts, jumping in the air, then moving towards Gerri.

He high fives her enthusiastically as they both turn their backs.

“Good boy,” she whispers seductively. “Maybe I will let you fuck me hard,” she whispers before turning back around again, as his jaw drops, his dick twitching.

“Four – Nil. Roman’s serve,” she declares, as Frank throws the ball back over, it hitting Roman’s shoulder when he turns to face them.

“Watch it, Frank!” Roman shouts aggressively.

“Sorry. Jesus. You turned into it,” Frank says holding his hands up defensively.

“You’ve got this, Rome,” she says looking around to him smiling, quirking her eyebrows.

**Fuck she’s hot. Was him doing well turning her on?**

He looks over at Frank and Karl, remembering what she had said about Karl’s shitty left hand. He throws it up in the air and hits it so it moves towards Karl’s left, watching as Karl panics, moving his left hand and then changing his mind last minute and uses his right, the ball hitting off the edge of the pool next to Karl and falling into the water, not going over the net.

“Five – nil,” she says smiling, holding her hand out for Roman to tap, as Karl collects the ball throwing it over.

“You’re listening,” she whispers smiling.

“I aim to please,” he whispers back seductively.

“Then please me,” she breathes, turning back around.

“Fuck Gerri,” he whispers erotically; she making clear she has heard him by looking back over her shoulder at him with what he thinks is a wink under her sunglasses.

**It was so fucking dangerous. Here they were in a pool with Karl and Frank, his dick growing harder and harder as she teased him with that sultry fucking voice. He just wants to fuck the life out of her. She has him by the balls and he’s willing to give them up.**

“Okay,” he announces strangled, throwing the ball up in the air and hitting it, Frank hitting it back confidently to Gerri as she hits to Frank’s left, Karl jumping in to hit it with his right instead, catching her off guard, as he hits it hard past her to Roman, who spikes it confidently just over the net.

“Six – nil,” she declares smirking.

“Come on, guys,” Roman says, wading to Gerri and tapping her hand. “Give us a challenge!”

“Good spike, baby,” she whispers sensuously, turning back to Karl and Frank.

**That did it, that encouraged a full blown hard on, so hard it was distracting. She had only called him that once when he was fucking her and it had sparked something inside him then, just like it had now. He feels like he can hardly move, a lump in his throat, his hips moving involuntary.**

He throws the ball in the air, hitting it to Frank, who spikes it back hard to his side, too far for Gerri to reach, he having to rush forward painfully with his ache between his legs now. He falls just short of it, diving under the surface, his mouth blustering against water as it hits the surface, whilst he hears cheers from Karl and Frank when he’s back above the water.

He looks to her and she’s smiling kindly, walking over to him and tapping his hand.

“Don’t worry. We’ll get it back,” she whispers, getting back into position.

“Six – ONE!” Karl shouts as though victorious.

“Okay, calm down Karl. It’s one fucking point,” Roman shouts angrily, getting back in position, but Karl laughs gleefully.

He throws it up again, his groin aching as he hits the ball; it coming up short and hitting the net.

“A-HA!” Karl and Frank both shout.

“Oh, come on! Second serve!” Roman shouts angrily.

“Nah! Not in the rules!” Frank teases, as Gerri looks around to Roman sadly.

“Exactly! It wasn’t expressed in the rules that it’s only one serve!” Roman shouts back as Gerri moves to pick up the ball.

“Well I vote one serve only,” Frank declares, “Karl?”

“I second that notion,” Karl laughs.

“Well, I fucking don’t!” Roman shouts aggressively, as Gerri moves towards him.

“Okay, one serve,” Gerri concedes as Roman looks at her with utter betrayal etched across his face.

“Wey!!!” Both Frank and Karl cheer. “Six – Two.”

“What the fuck?” He says angrily, as she grabs his arm and turns him away from them.

“Look, they will hang themselves for that. At one point they will wish they had a second serve. Don’t let them psyche you out. That’s what they’re banking on. We have a good lead and will bring it back. Just stay focused,” she encourages, chancing a touch of his shoulder.

“Okay,” he says haughtily, his member still throbbing, especially with her touch and her gentleness now.

The next two points go in a similar way. Roman too distracted by his hard on to concentrate on hitting it to Karl, so Frank gets in a good spike and Roman hitting it too hard out of the pool on the other. 

His frustration is growing, not wanting to disappoint her, but she is still gentle with him. 

"Just remember the strategy, hit it to Karl. You're doing great. You just need to try focus," she smiles gently, as he looks down frustrated. 

“Six - Four. Frank’s serve,” she shouts, swaying from side to side.

Frank picks up the ball and batters it towards Roman, who fires it back with oomph, his anger fuelling him as Frank hits it back over again.

“Got it!” Roman shouts as Gerri starts to go for it. He jumps high and battering it back over towards Karl. Karl hits it high into the air as Roman wades back, trying to get underneath it. Gerri follows it with her eyes as it floats through the air above her head, watching as Roman thumps it towards Karl. Karl becoming frustrated hits it hard, Gerri following again it with her eyes again as she sees it’s high, about to go over the perimeter, Roman gearing up to hit it.

“Leave it! It’s going out!” She shouts towards Roman, as he acknowledges her mid-air, dropping his hand, allowing himself to fall back down rigidly under the water; the ball going out, bouncing across the surrounding patio.

Roman remerges inelegantly, bringing his hands up to his hair, pushing it back and pinching his nose as he splutters water from his mouth.

“Seven – Four,” he shouts, spitting water out, as she smiles, wading towards him.

“Good job, Rockstar,” she flirts, her voice low, a sexy smirk across her lips. He raises his eyebrows, wiping his brow.

She turns back around as she takes in the sun beating down on her face and chest, the water from her waist down cooling her.

_She can’t remember the last time she had this much fun._

Frank fires another serve, this time at Gerri who hits it back eagerly, Karl hitting back quickly and Roman thumping it high in the air as Frank hits just over the net, the ball skimming the water on Roman and Gerri’s side before either of them can get to it.

“Seven – Five,” she announces as they cheer across from her.

She moves over to Roman again, skimming her hand against his, as he turns his back to their opponents with her.

“Only three more,” she whispers.

“Strategy?” He asks her seriously.

“Okay, well Frank served to you and then me. He’s being strategic so we both have to prepared, but I think it will be me he goes for first, so it doesn’t look like he’s taking turns serving to us. But aim for Karl. He’s the fuck up,” she whispers.

“Got it,” he whispers, taking deep breaths.

“Are you two gonna keep doing this game talk shit after every turn?” Karl shouts.

“Only for three more shots until we win,” Roman grins, taunting.

Gerri turns back around, “serve the ball, Frank.”

She takes a step back, anticipating it coming to her, which is exactly what happens. She hits it back, aiming it at Karl, who attempts to touch it over to Roman, who is already waiting for it, floating it to Karl. However, Karl punches it hard, it firing at Gerri, who gets hit square in the face, not quick enough to cover it with her hands.

“Fuck!” She shouts, her nose having been hit in an awkward way making it tickle.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Roman shouts aggressively as he wades over to Gerri.

“Oh, shit,” Frank comments quietly, as Karl looks on petrified.

“Shit! I’m sorry!” He shouts defensively. “I didn’t mean it!”

Roman gets to Gerri, standing in front of her and touching her chin to tilt her head back, looking for any signs of blood.

“You fucking asshole!” He shouts over his shoulder at Karl, before looking back at her worried.

“Are you ok?” Roman asks her gently.

“Body shot,” she groans, before pulling back and covering her nose and mouth, sneezing loudly. Twice, three times.

“What?” He asks when she has stopped sneezing.

“Body shot. Eight – Five,” she comments with a smile.

“Are you okay?” He asks her, touching her arm.

“Yeah, just make sure to beat Karl for me,” she whispers, smiling at him.

“I’m really sorry, Gerri,” Karl almost whimpers.

“Cheap shot, Karl,” she snipes at him, holding her nose and fake wincing.

_She knows Karl will be really off his game now. Too afraid to hurt her again. This would go to their advantage. He will only hit to Roman now._

“I’m going to get you for that shitfuck,” Roman shouts at Karl, turning around and pointing at him.

“It was an accident,” he shouts back defensively.

“Be fucking careful,” Frank hisses at Karl as he looks abashed.

“Rome,” she grabs his arm before he wades away. “Karl will only hit to you now. Frank will probably hit to you first now as well. Make it count.”

He nods, stepping back away from her.

She’s right again as Frank fires the ball at Roman, however, as it flies through the air, a gust of wind carries the light ball, curving it off to the side as it hits the patio next to Roman.

“HA!” Roman shouts, “No, second serves! Nine-Five!”

Gerri turns around smiling, “okay, c’mere.”

She adjusts her nose a little, the sensitivity still there as Roman grasps the ball and wades towards her, slapping her hand excitedly.

“Only one more shot now. My serve. Same plan. Aim for Karl. Don’t get over-excited and stay focussed,” she directs, her hand resting on his shoulder burning through his whole body.

“We got this. Dream team,” he smiles. She smirks back at him, a naughtiness etched across her lips.

“Do a good job and maybe I will make it worth your while before dinner,” she breathes as she removes her hand from him slowly, looking at him seductively over the rim of her sunglasses.

“What does that mean?” He asks, looking shocked at her as she backs away taking the ball from his hands.

“You’ll have to do a good job to find out.”

She whips back around to a petrified looking pair of opponents.

“Right, my serve. Championship point,” she declares. “Ready?”

“Get on with it,” Karl barks.

“Oh, saucy,” Roman laughs behind her.

She throws the ball up and, in a change of tact hits it to Frank, who waffles having expected her to aim for Karl. He hits it back pathetically as she smacks it back hard between the two of them, hoping that their shitty communication would work in the Dream Team’s favour.

“Got it!” Frank yells, battering it back over; it drifting long, up to Roman.

Roman prepares for it, getting his stance ready as he aims his hit back solidly towards Karl’s left hand, hoping for a pathetic hit. It’s exactly what he gets because when Karl sees he has to hit it to Gerri with his left hand, he panics, hitting it too gently so it skims the net, rolling along it until it falls back on Karl and Frank’s side.

Gerri and Roman scream in victory, wading towards each other and hugging, whilst Karl punches the water, Frank throwing his hands up in the air.

“You fuckin’ losers!” Roman shouts loudly, laughing as he lets Gerri go and swims under the water, doing a handstand underneath.

Gerri laughs watching him, as he kicks the floor of the pool, soaring up to the surface with a loud whoop!

“Good game,” Frank offers smiling, walking up to the net to shake Gerri’s hand; Karl following him bashfully.

“I really didn’t mean to hit you in the face,” Karl says quietly shaking her hand.

“Vodka martini with an olive and keep them coming,” she smiles, shaking it firmly in return.

Roman follows behind her, shaking Franks hand, “what did you recommend? Scotch on the rocks? I think I’ll make it a double though. Thanks sweetheart.”

He’s grinning widely, unashamedly rubbing Frank’s face in it, as he moves towards Karl who’s holding out his hand politely. Roman moves as if he’s going to shake it and then just slaps it.

“Hurry up bitch, I believe she said vodka martini,” he smiles.

“With an olive,” she adds behind him, pressing her back up against the wall of the pool.

“You heard the woman,” he shouts, shooing Frank and Karl away as they mutter on their climb out of the pool.

He swims back over to Gerri who is smiling at him.

“Some team we make,” he chuckles.

“Yeah. I think Karl just called you a little shit,” she chuckles, looking over his shoulder at Karl and Frank walking towards the bar.

‘Jealousy. I would be saying a lot worse if I was his bitch for the day,” he says, kicking against the wall next to her and backflipping under the water.

When he re-emerges, she braces herself, trying to avoid the splash back from him.

“So, what’s this making it worth my while. I want details,” he smirks, readjusting his skewed sunglasses.

“You’ll have to wait and see,” she whispers, arching her eyebrow.

“I want to fuck you up against this pool wall,” he grinds out, under his breath, his mouth near her shoulder, the heat of his words reaching her neck.

“As enticing as that sounds, not possible,” she smiles, grasping the pool edge behind her and moving to float; kicking her legs under the water.

“It’s good to have a dream,” he says, ducking under the water and swimming under her back, running his fingers along her spine as he goes and popping up on the other side of her.

She feels her back arch, a shiver running through her.

“Not here,” she whispers.

“Then when?” He whispers back, his hoarse voice undeniable.

She looks to her left, watching Frank and Karl at the bar, seeing the clock above it.

“Lunch is in 15 minutes. After lunch, ask me for sun block,” she suggests, her legs still kicking.

“Ohh, a mission. I love it,” he smiles, swirling through the water around her. “Let’s play a game.”

_She thinks on it. It’s the most uninhibited she has felt in years; his juvenile energy infectious. But there are people around. She still has a wall she has to keep up around the others. Right now though, she can mask under the guise of taking advantage of the pool as the winners of the game._

“Go swim a lap and I’ll time you,” she suggests smiling. “See how long it takes for you to swim there and back,” she says pointing to the pool wall to her left, her finger following from one length of the pool to the other.

“Okay,” he says, his eyes lighting up, excited that she’s participating in something with him, before he swims away. “I’m gonna swim the fuck out of it. You’ll see.”

“I’m sure, I will,” she smiles, watching as he sets himself up at the wall she had pointed to first.

“Ready?” She shouts.

“Fuck yeah!”

“3… 2… 1… Go!”


	14. Worth my while

Lunch is more an informal affair on the deck, everyone is present except Connor and Willa who are still fuck knows where, and Tom, much to Shiv’s annoyance, is still passed out on a lounger.

Roman thinks it’s the first time he’s sat at a table with Frank and Karl whilst they are still in their swimming shorts, donning print shirts, Karl’s lying open which is quite honestly distracting Roman from eating; disgusting him enough that he can’t help but say something.

“Karl, would you do up your shirt man? I feel like I’m going to throw my food up every time I’m forced to look at you,” he fires across the table, grimacing.

Gerri is directly across from him, smirking into a bite of her salad; Karl sitting next to her frowning.

**He’s quite frankly surprised that she even let Karl sit next to her.**

Karl looks down at his chest and back up to Roman.

“I’ve not had a shirt on all morning. Why is it suddenly offending you now?”

“I wasn’t eating then,” Roman reasons, his eyes narrowing.

He hears Frank chortle next to him, seeing the ghost of a smirk cross Shiv’s lips as she sits on Gerri’s other side, in her usual spot next to Logan who is at the head of the table.

“Roman,” Logan booms. “Cut it out,” he orders, not even looking up from his sandwich.

Roman rolls his eyes, holding a closed palm up to his brow to shield his eyes from Karl.

**If only Gerri hadn’t put her big fucking muu muu back on, he could have been having something more exciting to stare at to distract him from Karl’s gross hairy chest.**

He dry heaves unavoidably as he thinks of it, pushing his hand tighter to his brow and trying to focus on the image of Gerri in her bathing suit instead.

Just as lunch is finishing, Tom staggers over to the table, falling into the chair next to Roman.

Roman can’t help the snort that escapes him as Tom pants a little.

“You okay, man?” Roman asks him, his question laced with laughter.

Gerri chances a glance at Logan who puffs and exchanges a glance with Shiv, before looking back to Tom as he shakes his head. She turns to take in Shiv’s reaction; seeing her mouth covered, embarrassed at the display before her.

“Yeaahhhh. I’m greaaaaat,” Tom slurs, picking up Roman’s drink and downing it.

Roman would be angry if it wasn’t so funny, but he takes his opportunity.

“Another scotch, Frank,” Roman says, not even looking around.

“We agreed the deal ceases until after lunch,” Frank retorts.

“What deal?” Shiv asks, her eyes narrowed, as Logan raises his eyebrows in curiosity.

However, Tom interrupts, “Logan! Loge. L- to the – OG. I’m sorry about your chicken yesterday. It was really good though.” He’s slurring harder now, Roman making it harder to make out as he giggles loudly over it.

“Siobhan,” Logan says warningly.

“No. I’m serious,” Tom pipes up again, trying to hold his head up with his hand, elbow propped up on the table. “It wasn’t coooool though.”

“Siobhan,” Logan warns louder this time.

She gets up quickly, marching around the table and coming up behind Tom.

“Let’s go,” Shiv orders, lifting under his arms from behind him, encouraging him to stand.

“You’re one of a kind!” Tom shouts, pointing at Logan.

Gerri feels like she’s witnessing the cutting of the wires before the detonation of a bomb; it ready to explode any minute. Her eyes dart between them; Logan the bomb, Tom the detonator, Shiv the bomb squad. She can feel her anxiety racing; even considers excusing herself just so she doesn’t have to witness it.

However, Tom follows Shiv, mumbling things to her as she tries to walk quickly away with his weight against her, holding him up.

“Uhm… I’m going to go and change. Be back in 10,” Karl declares, standing up from the table, the chair scraping against the wood.

Roman takes this as a potential cue to put the plan in place, looking at his arms and running his hand down them lightly.

“Gerri, you still got that sun block I can use? I think I’m starting to burn,” he looks up to her questioningly.

“Uhm… yeah. It’s in my room though. You’ll need to come get it,” she offers calmly.

He rolls his eyes, playing along by sighing, “fiiiine.”

She is half-way standing up when she pauses, “if it’s too much bother, you can just burn.”

She looks at him pointedly, challenging him, as he watches Logan and Frank, barely interested in the exchange.

“No, it’s fine,” he whines, standing up and stretching widely with a squeal.

“Don’t worry, Frank. Won’t be long. You can have that scotch on the rocks ready for my return,” he grins, pushing his chair in as Gerri walks away from the table, waiting for him a few feet away.

“What the fuck is going on here?” Logan asks, looking confusedly at Frank.

“Oh, uhm… well… you see Karl stole Roman’s rubber ring… and,” Frank starts, as Roman holds up two fingers to her, signalling for her to give him a few minutes, as he runs up to the bar talking to the server quickly, then running back over to her.

“That should keep them occupied,” he laughs as they walk back towards Gerri’s room.

“I’m sure Logan will be delighted that his ‘Top Minds’ were engaging in such childish games,” she determines shrugging, as they walk down the hallway.

“Fuck him,” Roman barks, following her dutifully as they reach the door.

He follows her in, closing the door tightly behind him and locking it.

“I don’t want to think about him anyway. I want to know how you’re making that win worth my while,” he says coming up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and kissing her neck.

She smiles, moving her neck so he can have more access, bringing her hands to settle on his against her stomach.

“Mmm… there are so many possibilities. I was thinking of gifting you my book. Thought you might even learn a new word. That would be worth your while,” she teases, smiling wider as he grazes her neck with his teeth.

“Sounds great. Maybe I could use it to reach something in a high place or throw it off Karl’s head,” he mumbles against her skin as she laughs.

She turns around in his arms, holding onto his shoulders and bringing her face close to his.

“Now there’s an idea. Looks like we can go back to the pool now,” she says moving away from his arms as he tightens his hold on her.

“No,” he protests quickly as she tightens her hold around him, chuckling as she pulls him closer, pressing his forehead against hers, watching as he closes his eyes.

“Just five minutes of this is worth my while,” he whispers genuinely, sighing as he grips tighter around her waist.

She feels the breath knocked out of her.

_She hadn’t expected that. That sensitivity. She knew what he had expected when she invited him here, and thought he would be trying to pound up her against a wall by now, but this? If she told him this was all he was getting, it would be enough for him? Surely not. That would be a surprise and she can feel her chest surging just at the thought of it. If only people knew that this was the real Roman Roy._

“This is all you want?” She whispers back.

He nods lightly against her, his eyes still closed, inhaling and exhaling deeply.

“Just five minutes,” he whispers.

She moves to kiss him softly, opening her mouth to him immediately as his tongue languidly dances with hers. She’s running her hand across his shoulders and neck, as he trails a hand up her back, pulling the tie from her hair and throwing it behind her so he can thread his hand through the golden strands

She runs her hands down his chest, one sneaking to his crotch, as she palms him through his swimming shorts, but he pulls his body slightly back from her, his lips leaving hers as he breathes slowly.

“Gerri, you don’t need to fuck me because I hit a ball over a net,” he says softly yet seriously, one of his hands pushing her hair back from her face as he looks into her glistening blue eyes through her frames. 

“That’s not why I’m doing it,” she pecks his lips gently. “It’s because I want to… and because I want you,” she pecks again, drawing back slightly before she kisses him more forcefully this time. When she feels him responding eagerly, she moves her hand back to his crotch, palming him resolutely as she moves her other hand around his back. She begins pulling him with her as she walks backwards, her backside hitting the table, grounding herself against it.

“You look so fucking hot in that bathing suit. Made it really hard not to react,” he whispers against her lips, continuing his kisses between his words.

She smiles, taking her hands off him, grasping at her kaftan, beginning to quickly hike it up to her hips so she can get if off, whilst still duelling with his tongue.

He catches onto what she’s doing, pulling away from her to help remove the huge fucking muu muu.

When it’s over her head, still half fumbling in the air, he tries to pull it off her; but struggles.

“I’ve seen circus tents smaller than this. How the fuck do you get it off?” He shouts, half laughing as he hears her muffled giggling underneath it.

He ducks underneath it, grasping her waist and kissing her stomach, running his lips up to her chest as she giggles, her hands still above her, still trying to force the kaftan off.

“What are you doing?” She asks.

“Joining the party,” he mumbles against her neck, finally reaching her lips, pecking them.

“You’re not helping,” she chuckles.

“I didn’t think you were getting out. Think we are just going to have to call it quits and live here for the rest of our lives,” he smiles kissing her again, running his hands across her hips.

She laughs, kissing him back briefly, as her hands still war with the damn thing above her head.

“I think it’s caught on the stupid metal thing on my bathing costume,” she determines as he ignores her.

“Seems like it has good ventilation, keeps the heat in as well though. Smells like you too so what more can you ask for?” He pecks again. “Might even find an elephant or a trapeze artist. I’m here so we already have a clown,” he kisses again holding it for longer.

“Don’t say that about yourself,” she whispers, pecking before she becomes frustrated. “Get this fucking thing off me,” she laughs heartily, looking at him for assistance.

He slips underneath and out of it, measuring how to do this.

“Bend towards me,” he instructs as he pulls the thing from the back, fully over her head, looking at the section caught on the metal of her strap, detaching it and throwing it behind him.

“Fuck,” she whispers flushed, perching against the edge of the table again, taking her skewed glasses off her face and putting them on the table next to her.

“Your hair looks like you’ve already been fucked,” he laughs, bringing his hands up to run through it.

She smiles as he stands in between her legs, tilting her head back as he explores her scalp, lifting her hand to run her nails down his stomach again. His hand trails down to her shoulder, his lips following as he hooks the strap of her bathing costume, pulling it aside, pecking kisses along her collar bone. She moans, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck, as she tilts her head back, closing her eyes, focusing on the shivers it’s sending through her body.

He mumbles against her shoulder, incoherent to her as it muffles his voice.

“Hmm?”

He moves his ardent kisses up her neck until he’s right below her ear.

“I want you too,” he whispers in her ear, wrapping his arm around her waist as his other hand trails down to her breast, brushing her nipple in circles with his thumb continuously until it hardens.

“Oh, Rome,” she moans, kissing the underside of his jaw in response, hooking her leg around the back of his knee, drawing him closer to her so he’s pressing himself up against her centre.

He moans as she moves her hand back down his body, reaching into his swimming shorts to grasp him, trailing her hand up and down his shaft.

“Fuck, Gerri,” he groans, his forehead resting on her shoulder now, as he gasps, his hand moving the other strap down the opposite shoulder. He pushes her costume down further, exposing her chest as he runs his fingers across her bare skin now, goosepimples forming all over her body.

_This is how she had planned to make it worth his while. Getting him off whilst she had whispered expletives in his ear. But now she was here, it felt more sensual than a quick hand job. She had wanted to make it about him, though he was making it hard with the sensations he was blasting through her entire body._

“Tell me what you want, baby,” she purrs in his ear, as her hand continuously works his shaft slowly; his tongue attacking her neck, her back arching her breasts into his hands.

“Want to be inside you,” he grits out, hissing as he tries to control his hips from rocking against her rhythm, moving his mouth down towards her breasts, his tongue and lips devouring them as she holds his head tightly to her.

She moans loudly, her head falling back, taking his hand from her chest and moving it down, encouraging a further exploration.

He raises his head, looking into her eyes, watching her blown pupils as he reaches between her legs, skimming across her centre. His nose brushes hers as her breath hitches, until he moves his hands to the outside of her thighs, lifting her up onto the table with a quick jerk.

**He doesn’t understand why just being nose to nose with Gerri, watching her pant in rhythm with him, their breath colliding; watching the arousal etched across her face, her responses to him barely touching her, is the most erotic thing he has ever been involved in in his whole sorry existence. The fact that he is causing Gerri fucking Kellman of all people to feel all this pleasure. That he’s the one she wants to fuck her, is the biggest turn on he’s ever had.**

He gives a quick peck to her lips, his nose still brushes hers, whilst his hand trails back between her legs, feeling as she pushes them open, wrapping them behind his thighs. He listens to her short gasps, as her hand continues its languid movement over his dick. He grazes his fingers of both his hands symmetrically over to the inside of her thighs, then across to the outside, up towards her hips, and then back inside, drawing a corkscrew pattern down to her knees and then back up to her core. She throws her head back, moaning as the pleasure ripples through her.

“Roman,” she whispers, as he watches her face react with his mouth agape.

When he thinks they both can’t take it anymore, he reaches her slit, pushes her bathing suit to the side and presses against her, feeling the juices already there, pushing them around before he rubs against her clit. He moves his mouth to hers, pressing his tongue against hers slowly, trying to ignore the growing need between his own legs.

He continues working her clit as she explores his mouth, wrapping her arm around his shoulders, clinging on for dear life. Eventually he hears her breathing becoming more rapid.

“That’s it. Don’t stop,” she whimpers against his mouth, her tongue no longer active as she can only take in gasps of air, pressing her forehead to his.

“You’re so beautiful,” he groans, pecking the side of her open mouth.

At that her orgasm hits her all at once as she pushes her pelvis harder into his hand, reclaiming his mouth as it washes over her, her hand momentarily ceasing it’s pumping of his dick.

She pulls back from his mouth, looking even more desperate than she was before.

‘Do it now,” she says, unhooking her thighs around him to push his shorts all the way to the ground, still grasping his dick as he moves closer to her, tilting her hips up to him, wrapping her legs back around his thighs, as she steers him into her this time so he can fill her deliciously.

“Fuck,” he groans out, his head pressed to her collar bone.

“Yes,” she breathes.

He immediately starts moving within her, bracing his hands on her ass as she wraps both of hers around his shoulders, his head moving back up to watch her expressions.

_She hasn’t done it like this for a long time; long before Baird had passed and fuck, she had forgot how intimate it could be. She hadn’t remembered it ever feeling this good._

Her chest is pressed hard against his, as he continues moving within her, kissing her passionately as he moans into her mouth eagerly.

Eventually he begins lying her down, moving down with her, wanting to create a better leverage so he can hear her scream, not just a little moan. It gives him exactly what he wants, a better angle and better power. He moves up, bracing his hands on the table by her chest, pounding into her hard as she grasps his forearms, watching as all his concentration is on satisfying her.

“Yes, Rome. Right there,” she encourages, biting her lip.

“Fuck, Gerri. Keep talking,” he pants, closing his eyes as he feels his climax approaching.

“You feel so good,” she moans, stroking his arms as she jerks which each slam against that spot within her.

“If only they could see you now. How good you are at this. Not a fuck up at all,” she continues whispering, stopping to bite her lip as she tries to prevent moaning too loud, running a hand down his stomach as he speeds up his rhythm within her.

“So fucking amazing… fucking Queen…” he pants between his thrashes within her.

She reaches for his shoulder, encouraging him to come closer to her, him bending down over her so she can kiss him. She tightens her grasp on the back of his head, his elbows now on the table, forearms across her shoulder blades as he grasps her shoulders, battering into her even faster now.

She moans into his mouth louder, trying to move her hips alongside him, raking her nails across his back.

“Yes, Gerri, yes. Fuck yes,” he whines into her mouth.

“Fuck me,” she strains, as he pulls back from her mouth to breath. “Please. Ugh.”

He can’t hold off any longer, exploding inside of her with a groan, moving his mouth along her neck, muffling his pleasure into her shoulder, still pounding inside of her until she begins seizing around him.

“Yes,” she moans into the back of her hand, muffling her screams. “Yes,” she repeats, pushing down against his slowing tempo. “My god, yes,” she whispers as her orgasm calms, his jerks within her ceasing, whilst he lies on top of her, his head cradled in the crux of her neck.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

“For what? I should be thanking you,” she smiles, brushing her hand through his hair as she continues panting.

“For getting it,” he moans, buried in her neck, his chest still rising and falling. “For getting me.”

She kisses his head, understanding what he’s trying to get at.

“You’ve always had it in you, Roman,” she assures him. “You’ve got to this point yourself. I just helped you along a bit,” she tells him gently, her heaving chest starting to dissipate.

_She isn’t just talking about sex. She’s talking about in everything, and she hopes he knows that’s what she’s referring to._

“You’re brilliant, Gerri,” he pulls back, looking at her lovingly as she smiles back, pushing his hair back.

“You too and never forget it,” she says pulling him down for a sensual kiss, as he returns it ardently; touching her hair, twisting a strand around his finger. 

“You’re good at kissing,” he evaluates, pulling back from her little and slipping out of her core.

“Why thank you,” she giggles, pecking his lips and trailing her finger over them after.

“Your voice is something as well. Does shit to me. And your thighs,” he determines, sitting up, pulling her with him into a sitting position as he runs his hands across her thighs with both hands.

“Strong and fucking sexy,” he mutters to himself as he bends down to kiss the top of each one, whilst she watches him, her hands resting on his shoulders.

_She doesn’t remember any past lover including Baird paying this much attention to her body. Of course, there had been compliments and foreplay; very routine comments, very scripted male flattery; but she doesn’t remember it being this genuine, any of them being this mesmerised, nor any of them really doing it post-intercourse. She can’t help feeling the giddiness that is mounting within her._

He moves to kiss her stomach through her swimming costume, kissing the swell of her left breast.

“Rome,” she says kindly, pulling his head back up to her at his jaw, pecking his lips once more. “As beautiful this feels and as flattered as I am, there is no time for seconds. People will be wondering where we are, and you have a drink waiting for you.”

He groans, pecking her lips again.

“I know. Go into my bathroom and clean up. Grab the sun block whilst you’re in there,” she directs, giving a final long kiss and then pushing him away from her. He bends to pull up his shorts, following her orders, as she pulls her bathing suit back up into place.

She moves into the bathroom once he is in her bedroom, lathering himself in sunblock, whilst she cleans herself up when she catches herself in the mirror. Her lips are swollen, a red mark on her shoulder and she looks like she’s been royally pleasured from the big grin on her face. _She wonders if the others would notice._

***

The rest of the afternoon had gone by happily. They had reappeared quickly after their tryst, deciding they could show up together, the reason they had been away made explicit before they had gone.

She had been surprised by the huge luxury inflatable lilo in the pool, complete with arms, a cup holder, and a back to lie against.

“That’s for you,” he whispered before walking over to his previously discarded rubber ring, throwing it into the pool and diving through the hole in the middle of it.

She had smiled, gathering her book, before shouting to Karl.

“Karl! Double vodka martini with an olive!”

“Ask Frank where my scotch is!” He shouts over to her.

She looks over to Frank and Karl smiling to see if they had heard him.

“It’s coming,” Frank groans, standing up from his stool.

She walks over the pool, figuring out how she’s going to get onto this lilo, just as Roman notices her and pushes it to the edge.

“Jump on. I’ll hold it steady,” he smiles at her.

She sits at the edge of the pool, placing her book down and manoeuvres onto it as he holds it firmly. When she’s settled, he pulls it out and pushes her so she’s drifting in the middle.

“Roman. My book,” she says over her shoulder, spinning slightly.

“You want me to throw into the bottom of the pool? Say no more,” he jokes, whilst she offers him a quirk of her lips in return.

He swims until he reaches it, lifting the book above his head, and wades over to her.

“Frank is Maggie Gyllengaal’s boyfriend by the way,” he says, referring to the book as he passes it to her.

_Frank Vernon?_

“What?” She asks confused as she takes it off him.

**Of course, she wouldn’t know Donny Darco.**

He chuckles, “nothing.”

Frank and Karl reticently approach the pool holding their drinks, Roman floating on his back laughing as he watches them.

“Here,” Frank gruffs.

“Thank you, Benson,” Roman dons his English accent again, taking the drink and sipping it.

“Gerri, come get your drink,” Karl says impatiently, gesturing the drink in the air.

“Don’t think that was the deal, Karl,” she expresses flatly, crossing her legs and opening her book. “Pretty sure the deal was for _you_ to bring the drink to _me_.”

“I’ve just changed out of my swimwear,” he protests.

She shrugs, looking back at her book, as Roman giggles looking back up at Karl and Frank.

“Here Roman. Pass her it will you,” Karl says holding it down to him.

“What’s the magic word?” Roman asks lightly, fluttering his eyelashes.

Karl rolls his eyes, huffing. “Please,” he hisses out.

Roman sighs. “It was actually fisting swing which I thought _you_ would have guessed but that will do,” he offers plainly, taking the drink from him, receiving an eyeroll in return.

He smirks wading over to Gerri, passing her the drink as Frank and Karl pad away.

“You just can’t help yourself. Can you?” She asks smiling.

He shrugs as he takes another drink.

“Hold this for me,” he says, passing her his drink as he swims to his rubber ring, jumping up onto it after three attempts so he’s lying on top of it comfortably.

She smiles greater, watching his failed attempts.

_The grace of a baby elephant._

She watches as he tries to paddle over to her with his hands by the rubber ring, getting there eventually and retrieving his drink.

“Cheers,” he lifts his glass to her, as she lifts hers in return, taking a sip.

“Will you settle down now so I can read,” she quirks her eyebrow.

“Who’s stopping you?” He asks, draining his drink and paddling away from her to the side as she rolls her eyes.

“BENSON!” He shouts loudly, getting Frank’s attention and shaking the glass at him.

They spend the remainder of the afternoon relaxing. He initially plays the game of splashing water on her legs every time he drifts close, she ignoring it on four occasions. However, on the fifth drift past him, his back is to her and she gives into the urge of kicking the back of his rubber ring so he pushes away from her.

He sits up with a jolt, looking over his shoulder at her as he spins away.

“Hey! I was nearly asleep there,” he shouts with a smile.

“I’m all the way over here. Must have been the wind,” she smiles over the top of her book, returning to it.

He falls asleep and she gives Karl a long break, not asking for a drink for a long time, feeling herself becoming sleepier from the amount she’s already consumed, also knowing she doesn’t want to start a resentment with him by taking it too far.

_She doesn’t remember a better afternoon. Whenever she ended up on one of these “retreats” it ended in anxiety and backstabbing. Basically, like yesterday. She was glad she could take this away with her from this trip. She felt like it was the beginning of something new._

She looks over to his sleeping form, floating around on the rubber ring; the sea in the distance, the sun beating down on her.

_She could get used to this. Fun. Sex. Relaxing. It had been three major things she had forgotten she had missed. She would need to make a better effort to try and seek them out when she got back. Or at least make a better effort to get away from work every so often so she could have moments like this._

***

Dinner is again a quiet affair, a little anxiety in the air as the press conference approaches, though a far sight better than most of their meals from the two days before. Tom doesn’t put in an appearance, Connor making it up for it by using the words of ten people talking about his afternoon.

Logan and Shiv skulk off together just before the conference is due to take place. Connor and Willa opting to watch it back in their room. However, Roman isn’t sure where to go for the press conference, follows Gerri to the bar as she agrees to watch it in the sitting area with Frank and Karl.

**He feels as though he should be with his dad. His dad was always quite funny about these things being with family, especially considering he’s now the COO. He would waver on whether the suits could join him or not. Recently, however, his experience was that the suits were on the outs. He didn’t want to sit in there with his dad though. He thinks this is going to be a difficult watch, seeing Kendall emotional committing career and reputation suicide. He would rather be near Gerri. She’s more likely to say something helpful and encouraging than his dad is.**

“You okay?” She asks him at the bar as they wait for their drinks, as Karl and Frank walk ahead.

“Yeah,” he says quietly.

She quirks her lips, knowing he isn’t okay.

“I know it’s hard,” she offers, placing a hand on his forearm. “But Kendall’s a big boy. He’s going to be fine. We’re going to do everything we can, okay?” She says bending her head, moving under his ducked head into his eyeline with a smile.

He smiles, lifting his head to look at her.

**That’s that decided. He’s staying with Gerri.**

“I don’t want to sit with my dad,” he tells her, not really sure why he has.

“Then don’t,” she smiles, picking up her drink, turning around and leading the way into the sitting area, all of them gathered facing the huge television. He sits next to her on the sofa, the only two available seats. Her notepad in place, ready to strategize any fuck up’s Ken might provide, ready to note down any questions the press may give or the responses he may provide though he has been ordered not to. _But it’s Ken. Anything could happen._

Gerri shushes them as the press conference begins, Kendall walking slowly up to the seat with dozens of microphones.

They listen as he begins the press conference speech that they had prepared for him, hanging off his every word.

**He’s nervous. That he can tell. He keeps pausing and looking like the kicked puppy. The same expression he has always had when he’s nervous.**

“It has been suggested that I would be a suitable figure to absorb the anger and concern,” they watch him say.

However, he pauses again, for a lot longer this time.

_Speak Ken for fuck sake._

Roman chances a glance at Gerri, who looks back briefly.

“Was this in the plan?” He asks her.

“No,” she answers firmly as the pause continues.

“But…” Ken says, pausing.

Gerri can feel her stomach sink.

**But?**

“No, no, no,” Frank shouts.

“Fuck Ken,” Karl whispers.

Roman looks at them all panicked.

“This isn’t supposed to happen?!” He asks panicked.

“Shush!” Gerri waves her hand, never taking her eyes off the television.

“the truth is that my father is a malignant presence,” Ken states firmly.

She looks around to Roman shocked, as his mouth falls open staring at the screen.

“a bully and a liar,” Kendall continues, pausing briefly again.

“Fuck!” Roman shouts, looking to Gerri, pleadingly.

“My dad… I have to…,” Roman starts.

“Go… go…” Gerri encourages quickly, watching as he jumps up and runs out the room, turning her head back to the television as Kendall continues speaking.

“and he was fully personally aware of these events for many years and made efforts to hide and cover up… He had a twisted sense of loyalty to bad actors like Lester McClintock and a disregard for the safety of migrant workers, non-union and union workers, and for vulnerable performers and guests,” she watches Kendall say.

“Fuck,” she whispers under her breath, so shocked that she can’t even take down notes of what he is saying.

“My father keeps a watchful eye over every inch of his whole empire and the notion that he would have allowed millions of dollars in settlements and compensation to be paid without his explicit approval is utterly fanciful,” Ken continues, booming through the microphone on the television.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck. He’s legally admitting to everything they have done. The settlements, the compensations. The NDAs could come tumbling now. Fuck._

“I have with me today copies of records that show his personal sign off. How much most of us who executed his wishes bear responsibility is for another day. But I think this is the day his reign ends,” her head drops into her waiting hands covering her mouth as she stares at the television.

_He’s implicated all of them. Oh my fucking Christ.._

“I’ll be providing the documents and can answer any questions you may have in the coming days. Thank you very much,” he finishes, standing up and walking way from the microphone.

_Documents? Fuck. Fuck._

She looks around to Frank and Karl, who look back at her with their mouths hanging open.

She hears her phone going off next to her, taking a moment to realise what the fuck she has to do now.

She looks around seeing Karolina’s name, lighting up the phone; picking it up quickly and answering.

“Hi,” is all she can manage.

“Fuck, Gerri! Fuck! What the fuck do I do?! What do I fucking do?!” Karolina shouts down the phone.

“Get the documents, Karolina. Get them. I need to see them as soon as you can. Accost Kendall. Fucking tackle him for the documents if you have to. See what you can find out from the documents if he won’t give you them. Remind him that I’m going to have to try and figure out a defence for him alongside everyone else. Remind him that those documents could be his one-way ticket to fucking Attica if he releases them,” she is pacing the room, walks out of it onto the deck, needing the privacy of no one listening in and hoping her signal keeps up.

“Encourage him to call me, Karolina. Tell him I will defend him against his father. Tell him that I want the best for the company and if that means defending him by using his dad as the scapegoat to save us all, I will do it. Do not, and I can’t stress this enough, do not tell him that in front of any other fucking person. That is top secret. He needs to give me the information in those documents. Maybe I can encourage him not to release them if he contacts me. Either way I need those documents, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay,” Karolina responds shakily, out of breath as she clearly is running, likely towards Kendall.

“It’s going to be okay. Just try and get him to call me,” she reassures, her heart beating out of her chest, the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

“Okay. I will call you as soon as I know something,” Karolina shouts, hanging up the phone.

She huffs loudly as she checks the phone, it lighting up with emails and texts, as she walks back into the room where Karl and Frank are.

“There’s no way he’s coming back from this,” Frank murmurs.

“Fuck. That means Gerri’s in charge now. She’s the name on the paper,” Karl responds, as Frank’s eyes widen upon seeing Gerri, who has stopped in her tracks, looking at them both with wide eyes as Karl whips his head around to look at her.

_She hadn’t even thought of that. She’s the fucking successor. She’s the name on the paper. There was no way Logan was coming back from this, which meant she was going to be the acting CEO. Fuck. Fuck._

‘Are you okay?” Frank asks kindly, his eyebrows reaching his hairline.

“Gerri,” she hears Roman’s breathless voice behind her, whipping around to look at his panicked expression. “Dad wants to see you.”

_Fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No more action from the yacht, however, I'm considering some one shots maybe of the aftermath.  
> Thanks for sticking with this as I explored it as it went along.


End file.
